


A World Filled With Lies

by Third_Party



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Captain America - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), Loki (Marvel) - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Avengers Movie Ending (Original), Dark Loki, Don't Judge Me, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Evil Loki, Evil Steve, FrostIron - Freeform, Harm to Children, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, King Loki, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Unfettered, Loki-centric, Manipulative Loki, Mind Games, Mind Rape, Non-Consensual Violence, Odin's A+ Parenting, Panic Attacks, Please Don't Kill Me, Psychic Violence, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Slavery, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Warning: Loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2018-03-28 19:44:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 55
Words: 351,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3867538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Third_Party/pseuds/Third_Party
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You think this is the worst that could happen to you?”  The God-King asks and you can barely think straight, your heart is hammering so hard.<br/>“No.”  You say, surprised the words are still coming.  “Not by a long shot.  But I think I’m pretty committed to my course now.”  You look him straight in the eye and try not to lose your nerve.  “So are you going to deal or not?”<br/>“For their lives?”<br/>“For their lives.”<br/>“I will take yours.”  He says and for one heart stopping moment you think he’s going to kill you.  And then it sinks in that, no, he means something far worse.  Something you can’t even imagine.</p><p>*</p><p>Okay, you've read the tags - I mean them.  Everything in the tags happens in this story.  This is Loki at his unchained 'I've beaten the Avengers' worst.  New York has fallen, the Avengers were unable to close the portal and the reader is a fourteen year old who was in the worst possible place at the worst possible time.  I've made the child as genderless as I can to make immersion easier and I can guarantee you that there will be no easy rides for this character.  They will not get raped/sexually abused, but might observe it.  Any rape/sexual violence will have warnings at a chapter's start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stark Tower

**Author's Note:**

> Just so you know, I will not be pulling any punches in this story. There will be violence, there will be slavery, there will be human blood sports. There will be a fourteen year old growing up with this going on all around them. 
> 
> I am not sure if there is going to be any rape or sexual violence yet, but rest assured if it does happen, I will put a warning at the beginning of the chapter. The reason I'm not putting it in the tags is because it will *never* happen to the main character, but might be observed. As such I didn't want people checking out the preview and getting the wrong idea. 
> 
> You've taken the first step, you've clicked on my fan fic and I am extremely greatful that you've given me a chance in a sea of Loki fan fics.  
> Thank you. :)

The ground is shaking. There is nowhere else to go. Every building, every street is a warzone of unimaginable proportions. Any building you enter could be demolished without warning. Out in the street the Chitauri are swooping down on people running away and carrying them off to an unknown fate. So you crouch in the hole in the wall of your apartment while your dad screams his last and your mum lies silent in the rubble. 

Your dad’s dying, the craft had spun out of control and gone through the window. Mum died instantly, thrown out of the hole like a rag doll. Dad… Dad lost an arm and a leg as it barrelled past him, a mess of sharp and twisted metal. It had smashed through the kitchen and through the bedroom, to rest in the hall thirty feet away from where it had entered. The aliens were already dead when it crashed, their heads caved in by some unbelievable force. Like something had taken their heads in a vice and squeezed…

You climb down to ground level. You want to find help. But in the madness you know there will be no help coming. That your dad is going to die. You’re fourteen years old and the world is coming to an end.

Your mum had worked in Stark Industries as cafeteria staff, your dad had been a doorman. Mr Stark was the best employer around here, he had even bought a few blocks nearby the Tower so they could be leased at a cheap rate for his poorer employees. People like your mum and dad. They couldn’t afford to live in the centre of New York without help, couldn’t afford a commute and didn’t want to take you out of school. Mr Stark had helped them find their feet again. You wonder where he is in all this violence, wearing his red and gold suit. It must be wonderful to fly, to escape the terror on the ground, to know which way to go. You wonder if he had crushed the heads of those aliens, if he had let the craft go through your window. In all this chaos it would have been hard to keep track of where everything was headed, or if any of the buildings had people in them… 

The evacuation was a mess. It had all happened so quickly. Mum and Dad had come home early, something about a staffing change in the tower. They were scared, uncertain of what was going on, but you’d known, deep inside that something bad was about to happen. Everyone had. Half the neighbours had left before that flash of light had taken up half the sky and opened the hole into the abyss. But by then there were traffic jams and panicking people and there was no chance of getting out. The aliens were suddenly everywhere. There had been a broadcast on your radio a half hour before the attack. Your TV was broken, dad hadn’t got around to sorting it out and you had all been sat on the couch, listening to the news when a voice had broken through the airwaves. The aliens were called the Chitauri and they were going to take over the world, led by the God-King Loki. It was he who had addressed you, telling you all surrender and bow to him. Your father had growled out a denial and your mother had gone to the window. You had gone to your room, not wanting them to see how scared you were. It was how you had survived and why they were dead… 

You have to leave here. You can’t stay. You look up at the gaping maw above Stark Tower, only a few blocks away. The Chitauri are moving on. They’ve picked most of the people from this area and are spreading out in a loose circle, looking for other prey to catch. The safest place is the eye of the storm and so you turn towards Stark Tower. You keep to the edges of the rubble and step over the corpses where you can. There are so many dead here, so few injured. 

The lucky few left have the same idea as you. They start to group together, but you keep your distance. Some survival instinct tells you to beware, to be ready to run again at a moment’s notice. You notice a backpack in the ruins and pull it to you. There are books inside and the canvas has blood stains on it, but the bag is still tough and intact. You go to throw the books away but stop when you see who they belong to. Each one has the name Tina Fisher scrawled on in black ink. She had been one table away from you, her dad had been an accountant. With a heavy heart you drop them on the floor, you can’t keep them. They would weight you down. The only one you can’t throw away is the book you were reading in English – a John Wyndham Omnibus. Day of the Triffids, the Kraken Awakes and the Chrysalids. You’re half way through the Chrysalids and you want to know how it ends. And it has Tina’s name in it. If you find her, you promise yourself that you will give the book back to her. 

Across the street the window of a convenience store has blown out and there are plastic bottles of water littering the street. You gather three of them and put them in your bag, then find a box of chocolate bars and take them as well. Not the best of meals, but the sugar will help keep you alive. You’ve seen the movies, you know how all this could end. You have to be prepared. Above you is the sound of howling, grinding metal. A cry that is part electric, part mechanical, part alive. You look up and see a huge flying monster move through the portal and into the world. It’s segmented like a giant eel and its teeth open and close in violent snapping gestures as it swims through the air. You gaze up, paralysed at the sheer size of the thing and you hear screams from down the street as the group sees this new threat. How will any of you survive the day? 

You hear sirens in the distance. Far too far away to make any difference. But the moment of hope you feel when you hear them breaks the spell and you look away from the horror in the sky. You run for cover while you try to gather your wits. There is the sound of fighting, of splintering wood, stone and falling masonry. Something big and green and terrifying leaps from building to building and you cower in the shadow of a broken wall as it bounds towards the flying monster above you. As it springs to attack, the green giant dislodges a window ten stories above the ground. You see the group of people are underneath and still fixated on the creature, staring upwards at the sky. They are so caught by watching the battle, they don’t see the danger. You stay hidden, unable to move as the shards fall down around them. The survivors scream in horror and disbelief. They try to help the injured, but most are already dead. A woman has a gash in her face and her hand is bleeding, another is limping from a piece of glass in her leg. The rest of the bodies are left behind as the unhurt try to get the women to safety. They move out of the shadow of Stark Tower and head towards the sirens instead. You stay where you are, undecided. They disappear around the corner of the block and your chance is gone. You are alone. 

You sit against the wall for what feels like forever. You're shaking, unable to move or speak. You wonder if this is what it feels like to go into shock. You cling tightly to the bag, your only life line and you wait for it all to end. You look up at the glint of red and gold in the sky. Mr Stark is flying overhead and he is carrying something in his arms. It’s a missile, almost as big as he is. You watch him as he flies higher and higher towards the gaping void above, until he disappears inside. A few agonising moments pass, you wait to see him come out, you wait to see the hole close. You realise that you are whispering under your breath.  
“Come on, come on, come on…” Over and over again. 

But the hole doesn’t close. You see the shockwave coming as it ripples through the sky and you throw yourself out and into the middle of the pavement as it hits the top of Stark Tower. The wave hits you and forces you flat against the tarmac while the buildings around you tremble. Half of them fall, already unstable from the battle overhead. You wait for the masonry block that will fall and kill you, but it doesn’t come – though many large pieces hit only a few feet away. Chips of stone bruise and cut your skin from the heavy impacts and you roll onto your back with your arms around your face in a desperate attempt to protect yourself. 

You see the flash from above, a great sphere of light, expanding and expanding, covering half of the top of Stark Tower. It seems to bunch and push upward with the spear of light touching the void growing ever brighter. And then the abyss above you begins to fluctuate, to shimmer. For a moment of desperate hope you think that it’s all over, that the hole will close. But to your horror, you watch it grow ever larger until it takes up half the sky. You watch as the first, heavily damaged ship begins to push its way through and into your world. 

And then you see him. A tiny glint of red and gold in the utter blackness. A man falling from the sky. You don’t know why you do it, but suddenly you’re up and running. Heading towards where the speck will fall. You want to know where he hits, if he manages to save himself.  
You want to be there if he dies…

It’s only a few blocks and the adrenaline keeps you going. You feel sick with it, heady and focussed on your goal. You know you’re injured, that your body can’t keep up this pace – but you have to know. The urge drives you forward. Your heart is thudding in your chest as you turn the corner and you see the armoured suit maybe a hundred feet above you and only fifty feet away from where it is about to impact with the ground. No one can survive a fall like that, not even Mr Stark. You’re about to close your eyes and look away when a green figure leaps from a few stories up and catches the man as he falls. You think is it the green giant, but it is all too quick to be sure. They land in the rubble, the earth shakes from the impact and as the dust clears you realise that you were wrong. 

The person who has caught Mr Stark is a tall man, sparsely built but wiry and strong – he’s holding Mr Stark in his full armour like he weighs nothing at all. The man’s skin is pale, his hair is black and he’s wearing a helmet with curving golden horns. His feet have left a crater in the ground and he’s dressed in green and black leather. He lays Mr Stark on the tarmac, puts his fingers around the face plate and pulls it away like a piece of a broken toy.  
“No Tony, you don’t get to die yet.” The man tells him and you recognise the voice. You heard it on your radio. This is the God-King Loki and you can’t move an inch. His fingers move down Mr Stark’s armour, the tips resting on the light in the centre of his chest.  
“Wake up.” The God-King commands and Mr Stark’s body arches like it’s just been given an electric shock. Mr Stark starts to scream.

“Loki!” You both look up and see a man with a shield standing a short distance away. His armour is ripped and torn, the red, white and blue covered with grime and blood. He looks tired, but angry and determined. “Back away.”  
The God-King stands and smiles. He squares off against the man with the shield.  
“You are out-numbered Captain and your plan has failed. Your attempt to destroy the shield didn’t work and the energy from that bomb you used only made the Tesseract stronger. If you surrender now, I will show you mercy.”  
“If I surrender now, the world will be yours.” The man replies. “I won’t let that happen. Back away, it’s your last warning.”  
The God-King laughs and raises his hand. A sceptre appears in it just as the Captain charges. He throws his shield, it rebounds off the wall and cuts the God-King in half… His image wavers and disappears as if he had never been there at all. The shield embeds itself in the ground and you rise to shout a warning. Too late the Captain turns and the God-King places the tip of his staff against his chest. You watch as the power of the sceptre flows through the Captain and takes him over. You glance at Mr Stark. You can hear his heavy breathing, but he just lies there, unable to defend himself. The God-King finishes his work with the Captain and walks over to Mr Stark, looking down at him with pity.  
“I can’t take over your mind, Tony. But there are other ways to secure your loyalty.” He tells him. 

Then the God-King looks up at you and you can’t breathe you’re so afraid.  
“Did you enjoy the show?” He asks you and to your surprise you find the strength to shake your head. The God-King smiles, his eyes speculative and cruel.  
“Well, you can’t stay here.” He says. “It isn’t safe.”  
He puts his head onto one side and points at you with his staff.  
“Run!” He shouts the command and your feet don’t wait for you to catch up.

You turn and flee into the ruins of the city, certain at any minute you will feel the sceptre against your heart...


	2. Survival Instinct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Come on, kid. Rise and shine.”  
> “Just five more minutes, dad.” You groan and the man laughs.  
> “We ain’t your parents, kid.” He says and suddenly the memories of the day before come flooding back. You sit bolt upright.  
> “Hawkeye?”  
> “Morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this one's coming together quickly. I should have another chapter ready in a day or so.
> 
> Thank's for all the Kudos and thanks for reading. 
> 
> If you like it/don't like it, just want to say hi, please leave a comment. I'd love the feedback.

*

Your feet are hurting. You wish you worn your new trainers today, the comfy ones. You loved the design on these old ones and you wore them all the time in the house. But the soles are worn down and the insides have been pounded flat from overuse. Every footstep is a like stepping on raw meat. But it keeps you going. The pain keeps you going, because you know if you don’t run, if you don’t escape then things will be far, far worse.

The void is so large it blots out the sun and covers everything in shadow. You’re trying to out run the blackness of the universe and the thought is so absurd that you find tears falling as you try to laugh behind the ragged breaths. You’re going mad, you’re sure of it. Only someone completely and utterly bonkers would be trying to laugh while they flee for their life. Wasting energy they should be putting into surviving. Far away you can hear the sirens. If you can get to them you can get to safety. There will be people who can help, who can take you away from all this. Who can tell you it isn’t your fault that mum and dad are dead… 

The agony that comes with the thought almost stops you in your tracks, but some instinct keeps you running. It wasn’t your fault, it couldn’t possibly be your fault. They were killed by accident in all the madness around you. 

_But they stayed here for you. They took jobs with Mr Stark to keep you in school. If it wasn’t for you they would have moved far away for here. They would still be alive. They’re dead because of you._

“Shut up, shut up, shut up.” You hiss to yourself and you keep your feet moving. You never knew you had so much stamina. You were crap at sport, preferring to read or play games on the internet. At track you couldn’t do the hundred metres without needing a long sit down afterwards to catch your breath. You were thin, but that was more down to your kick-ass metabolism than any actual exercise. You could eat a whole plate of pasta and still have room for coffee and cake afterwards. You guess that is probably over now, no more coffee, no more cake. Not once all the stores have been looted. In a few months you’ll be lucky to find pasta as well. No more fruit, no more mangos. Shit, you loved mangos. Your mum used to call you ‘her little fruit bat’ back when you were little. You’d always choose it over candy. Now you’re running with a back pack filled with chocolate and water, oh and a book. Because that had been such a great life decision. Now it’s banging into your back, a sharp corner turned so it bites on every down step. You don’t have time to stop and move the contents around, or throw the damn thing away. You have to reach the sirens. 

They’re too far away. You aren’t going to make it. The aches and pains from when the wave hit are coming back now and you know that you’re bleeding from small holes all over your body. From lots of small stones embedded under your skin. The force of impact have driven some of them deep inside and you wonder if you’re bleeding internally as well. Wondering if your organs are shutting down, if you’re just running on fumes and you’re just about to collapse and die. You feel like you’re going to die. You just want to curl up and let all the pain go away. But somehow your legs keep pounding along and you don’t think you can make them stop. 

“Hey, kid!” You look around, torn from your thoughts. You can’t believe it, there’s a ship, an aircraft, just a few hundred feet away. The ramp is down and there’s a man stood there gesturing for you to hurry. “Kid come on.” You veer off and head towards him.  
He’s an older guy, with short spiked hair and wearing some sort of black body armour. He’s got a bow slung over one shoulder and a quiver of arrows on his back. Could this day get any weirder?  
“Clint, come on, we’ve got to go.” A woman shouts from somewhere in the interior. “That ship is one big hornet’s nest. The sky’ll be full of them again in a few minutes. We have to go now.” Their craft is prepped and ready to go, the engines snarl as they start to take in power.  
“No, please!” You reach out and the man frowns.  
“Thirty seconds, Nat. That’s all we need.”  
“It’s less than we’ve got.” She retorts, but the ship remains in place. 

You run harder, digging into some reserve that you never knew you had. You’re almost flying over the ground. The ship is thirty feet away, twenty. You’re going to make it, you’re going to get out… And then there’s the sound of laughter in your ears and something takes your feet out from under you. You scream as you plunge into the gravel and glass. You raise your forearms to take the brunt and you roll and try to stand. Your knees are filled with small pieces of concrete, your muscles groan and burn. They won’t do what you want. You hear the man cursing and then he’s there, next to you and trying to lift you to your feet.  
“Clint!” The woman screams. “We don’t have time.”  
“I can’t!” You howl it. “I can’t. Run! Save yourself.”  
“Come on, kid. I’m the hero here.” The man grabs you by the waist to lift you over his shoulder.  
“Hello, Barton. Did you miss me?” It’s the voice of the God-King and the man stiffens. He puts you down and turns around, his bow already in his hands with an arrow notched.  
“Over here.”  
The man turns and looses the arrow. It goes through the image of the God-King. Right through the eye.  
“Oh, good shot. Bravo!”  
He turns and takes out another hologram.  
“Can you crawl, kid?” He asks. “We have to get out of here.”  
“He’ll creep up behind you. Like he did with the man with the shield.” You tell him as you make your painful way towards your sanctuary.  
“Man with the shield? Captain America?”  
“He called him Captain.”  
“Hell, kid. You don’t know who we are?”  
“We didn’t… I don’t. I don’t really watch the news.” You tell him. Dad had said something about help coming, but after the message from Him, they had turned the radio off. Dad had said he didn’t want to hear anymore enemy propaganda.  
“We’re the Avengers, kid. And we’re going to save you today.”  
“Such pretty sentiment.” The God-King sneers. Another hologram flickers and dies with an arrow in the eye.  
“What’d he do to the Captain?” The man asks.  
“He had a staff, a sceptre thing. Like from a high-tech museum. He put it against the Captain’s heart.” You’re ten feet from the aircraft. You’ve never felt so far away. The man with the bow takes a deep breath.  
“Well, at least he’s not dead.” He says.  
“He’ll ask me in time, just like you did, Barton.” This time there’s no hologram to go with the voice. 

“Clint come on! He’s just stalling.” The woman shouts and the man grabs you roughly by your arm and drags you up the ramp while his eyes search the scenery. As soon as the ramp lifts you curl into a ball, but the man picks you up and puts you in a chair as the aircraft begins to rise. He gives you the once over, his hands quick and impersonal. He frowns at the blood, he makes you show him your back and sides.  
“Is it bad?” You can’t keep the tremble out of your voice.  
“Not gonna lie, kid. You’re going to need some attention once we get you somewhere safe.” He puts his hand on your shoulder to reassure you. “But you ain’t gonna die today.” You pull your t-shirt back down and he buckles you in and heads for the cockpit. The relief of knowing that you aren’t too badly hurt is like a balm and you feel yourself drifting. 

“How we doing?” The man asks. You hear him through a haze of exhaustion.  
“Not good.” The woman sounds angry but in control.  
“Hold tight, kid. This is going to get rough.” The man says and you nod. You don’t know how you’re still awake. You just want to sleep, but it’s like your body doesn’t want to shut down. The plane swerves suddenly and you give a cry of fright.  
“They’re all over us, Clint.” The woman shouts as the plane dips and you leave your stomach behind somewhere in the sky behind you. “If you’d just got in when I said…”  
“We couldn’t leave the kid behind. You know what Loki’d do if he found them just wandering through the rubble?” The man asks.  
“No.”  
“Neither do I, but I don’t think they’d be any cookies involved.”

You make about five minutes of flight time before something clips the wing and the plane starts to go down. By then you’re happy you left your stomach behind when you did. It means you don’t need to vomit. When was the last time you ate? You don’t know, some sandwiches at lunch maybe? You look around and see your backpack, secured to the wall by some straps. Somehow it makes you feel calmer, knowing that it’s there. As soon as the craft hits the ground and stops moving you unbuckle yourself and head straight for it.  
“We don’t have time for personal items.” The woman says. She’s beautiful, wearing the same type of figure hugging body armour as the man. But her eyes are hard and you’re afraid of her.  
“We’ll need it.” You stammer out. “I’ve got energy bars and water…”  
“Really?” She asks. You nod and pass it to her. She unzips the pack and takes quick look in. She nods. “You’ve got good instincts.” She throws it back at you. “Now don’t lose it.”

You climb out of the emergency hatch with both of them and look around. You’re not even out of the city and the Chitauri are swarming everywhere.  
“We have to go.” The woman shouts and the man clasps your shoulder.  
“We’re not out of the evac zone yet.” He tells you. “We have to keep moving until we can get you somewhere safe. Are you okay?”  
You nod in reply.  
“If I want to throw up, it means I’m still alive, right?” You ask with a forced smile and the man smiles back.  
“That’s pretty much how it works.” He agrees. “I’m Hawkeye and this is Black Widow.”  
You go to answer but a bolt of energy slices through the air and your words fade in your throat. There’s a sharp tang of ozone as it implodes on the wall nearby. Hawkeye fires into the distance and something cries out.  
“Come on, kid. We’ll finish the introductions later.”  
They head off into the distance and you scrabble to follow them. 

*

You’ve never been this tired in your life. You’re sitting in a broken warehouse, rubble everywhere and half a wall’s missing. But it’s night and the Chitauri have gone quiet for the time being. You’ve been running for hours, watching, trying to be helpful and giving out the water and food when they ask. But you feel like a spare wheel. Hawkeye is already asleep, stretched out on the concrete as if it’s a bed in a five star hotel. Black Widow is sitting at the best vantage point in the room, checking her weapons and half watching you.  
“Get some sleep.” She says, looking over. “Tomorrow’s going to be pretty much the same as today, only longer.”  
“I can’t sleep.” You tell her. “Too much has happened.” You’ve stopped bleeding and the pain is bad, but manageable. Your knees and arms are cut to ribbons and tender to the touch. You know you need to see a doctor or something, but don’t want to seem weak in front of her.  
“Well make yourself useful then.” She shrugs. “How much water and food we got left?” 

You unsling your bag and start dividing the bars into three piles.  
“Eight each.” You tell her. “We had three each today. Two bottles of water left.”  
“So we’ll keep an eye out for food and water tomorrow. Should find a store on our way, so it won’t take us from our projected route. We’ll be out of the city in two days, tops. You’ve saved us a foraging trip.” She nods in approval and you know she’s only doing it to make you feel better.  
“But you’d be faster without me, right?” You say, your voice bitter.  
“Probably.” She agrees. “We’ve been trained for this – you haven’t. You’re doing fine, keeping up and helping out. I’ve had to get worse cases out behind enemy lines, believe me.” She smiles fleetingly, glances at Hawkeye as if she just said a shared joke. But he’s out for the count and she sighs.  
“Thank you.” You say. “Thank you for saving me.”  
“You’re not saved yet. But you’re welcome.” She shifts her position, cocks her head as if listening off into the distance and then looks at you again. “What’s the book?”  
“Oh.” You’d almost forgotten about it. “Just a stupid English assignment. I found it in the street, it belonged to Tina.”  
“Tina?”  
“She was in my class.” Just talking about it makes you want to cry. “All her books were in this bag and I knew it’d slow me down, but I couldn’t throw this one away.” You look at Black Widow. “I’ll just put it on the window ledge when we leave. We’ll need the space.”  
Black Widow looks into the distance then shakes her head.  
“No. Keep it.” She says finally. “It’s important to you, I can see that. When you get out of here you might never get to come back. You need a tie to your past life. It’ll help you adjust.”  
“Adjust?”  
“To the future.” Black Widow shrugs. “I hate to say it, but the world has suddenly become a very dark place. Having something that reminds you of the good times… You hold onto it, you treasure it.”  
“Is that a tip?” You ask and she smiles again.  
“A very good one.” She says. “From one survivor to another.”  
“I’m going to try and get some sleep now.” You tell her and she nods. She watches you put everything back in the bag carefully so that it’ll be more comfortable in the morning. No book corners digging into your back. You clear a spot on the floor and curl up around your bag. The second you lie down, you’re asleep.

*

“Come on, kid. Rise and shine.”  
“Just five more minutes, dad.” You groan and the man laughs.  
“We ain’t your parents, kid.” He says and suddenly the memories of the day before come flooding back. You sit bolt upright.  
“Hawkeye?”  
“Morning.”  
“What time is it?”  
“Five a.m. First light.” He says and you groan again.  
“When we’re out of here you can sleep for a week.” Black Widow says archly. “But until then, we have to keep moving.”  
“I’ve slept what, four hours?” You grumble, but you’re already getting to your feet and slinging your backpack on.  
“Yeah we were easy on you. Looked as if you needed a little beauty sleep.” Hawkeye grins.  
You give him a dirty look and try to work out a few of the cramps in your muscles. You don’t like the way one of the deep grazes on your right arm is beginning to hurt. The others are a dull ache, but this one’s beginning to burn. The sooner you get out of the city and find medical help, the better.  
“Well what are we doing loitering around here?” You ask sarcastically. “Let’s get a move on.”

*

It’s ten in the morning. You know because one of the high street clocks has somehow survived intact and is chiming the hour. The remains of the sky are covered with cloud and the whole of the city is overcast and dismal. You’ve had to change route six or seven times to avoid Chitauri patrols. The aliens are everywhere, sometimes you’ve had to double back entirely. Two days ago you could walk out of the city in five hours, now the whole terrain has changed. Even if there weren’t homicidal creatures out for your blood, just getting your bearings can be a huge challenge now half the buildings have been destroyed. The giant abyss seems to be getting bigger, but you’re not entirely sure if it’s really true or just your imagination. You can no longer look at it without suffering terrible vertigo. You feel that if you look at it for too long, you might fall into it forever. Another ship has entered Earth’s atmosphere overnight and hangs with lethal, threatening intent in the darkness. In the whole of the morning, apart from your travelling companions, you haven’t come into contact with single, living human being. But you’re getting used to climbing over corpses.

You’re weary and foot sore and you’re not sure how you got this far. But you know now that you can keep going for as long as it takes. You’re taking a short rest in the awning of a shop front, keeping watch with Black Widow while Hawkeye takes a quick look over the shelves. He comes back with two bottles of water to replenish the ones you’ve already drank, another box of chocolate bars and several cans. He throws one of the tins to Black Widow and one to you.  
“Pack up and eat. You need to keep your energy up.” He tells you and you nod. You put the two empty bottles on the sill now that you don’t need them. You’d been keeping them in case you didn’t find anything else and they needed refilling. Not that any of the taps worked. Black Widow had told you that at a pinch you could drink cistern water, but you didn’t really want to try it. Hawkeye passes you a fork from a fold up travel pack and you give a cry of delight when you see that he’s got you a can of mango pieces in syrup.  
“You said you liked ‘em.” He says and you grin happily. Black Widow gives a small shake of her head in mock disapproval, but opens her tin of peaches anyway. They’ve all got ring pulls on the lids and you’re glad you don’t have to worry about a can opener.  
“Fruit’s important, right?” You say as you eat. “It’ll be harder to get as this goes on.”  
“Sure.” Hawkeye agrees.  
“You can get lots of bad diseases by not keeping your vitamin levels up.” Black Widow says. “You get the option, you eat it.”  
You and Hawkeye exchange a look, but you don’t say anything. 

You finish eating first and ask if you can grab a few more cans for the journey. You have space in your bag and the extra weight wouldn’t be for long. Hawkeye tells you the aisle number and Black Widow tells you not to dawdle. The bad light outside becomes dark and dingy very quickly indoors. You stumble around as you wait for your eyes to adjust.  
“Aisle twenty.” You murmur to yourself as you move deeper into the dark. You almost turn back, but the urge to have something other than chocolate pushes you on. Fruit always made you feel better and now you need that high more than ever. You want to hold on to the things that make you happy for as long as you can. 

There’s a figure in aisle twenty, standing in front of the tins of fruit, silently deciding what to take. You don’t see him at first, it’s just too dark, but then he moves and you freeze in the shadow of the aisle. He’s tall and wearing a long woollen coat and a light scarf. His hair is brushed back away from his temples and when he turns to smile at you, your guts twist with fear.  
“Hello again.” The God-King Loki says, his voice polite and quiet. “If you scream, I’ll kill you.”  
You nod dumbly. The man gestures to the shelves.  
“Which do you prefer?” He asks. You go to speak but he puts his fingers to his lips and you nod again in understanding. You move forward, each step hesitant and wary. You watch him as he watches you and you move in a half crouch ready to flee at a moment’ notice. Maybe this is just another hologram sent to make you piss your pants and if it isn’t… You couldn’t run fast enough anyway. Best to play along. You pick up a can of mango and lift it up for him to read. He takes it from your hand and you know you’re in deep trouble. This is him, he’s actually here, stood in front of you.  
“What does it taste like?” He asks.  
“Uh, sweet… With a kind of buttery aftertaste.” You stutter and he nods his head.  
“You may take as many as you can comfortably carry.” He hands the tin back to you.  
You don’t question him, but manage to shove six cans into your backpack.  
“Kid? Are you okay in there?” Hawkeye calls out and you look stricken.  
“Go on. Answer him.” He’s daring you to cry for help.  
“Please…” You whisper. “Please just let us go.”  
“That’s entirely down to you.”  
You look the God-King Loki in the eyes and he stares you down. His threat isn’t idle, if you scream, you die.  
“Uh. I’m fine. It’s just a little dark in here.” You call out and he smiles and nods. “I’ve got the cans, I’ll be there in a minute.” 

“Clint. Incoming!” Black Widow calls out and you turn to run. The God-King reaches out and takes you by the shoulder. His grip is casual, but you can’t pull away. You look up at him, whimpering and once again he gestures for silence.  
“I did what you wanted.” You protest and he strikes you, backhanded. Again it’s a casual blow, with no seeming force behind it, but it takes you off your feet. You land hard on the bag of tins and every wound in your side and back shouts at once. You bite you lip and try not to cry out. Outside you hear the sound of energy weapons discharging. 

“Kid, if you can hear me. Find a back entrance and run. Just run. We’ll catch you up.” Hawkeye calls out and then the sound of fighting begins in earnest. You try to get up, to scrabble away from the man in front of you. But you’re near paralysed by the pain in your side and you only move a few feet before you can’t manage any more. The God-King crouches down next to you, his wool coat pooling on the floor. He takes your t-shirt in one hand and pulls it back from you waist. Inquisitive hands run across the small, newly healing scars until he finds one with the stone still protruding. His fingers dig into the wound and you sob loudly, trying to push him away. He raises his hand in warning for a second blow and you lie still, staring up at him in fear.  
“This will only take a minute.” He says and begins his work again. By the time he pulls the stone from your side you’re crying freely, tears running down you cheeks and snot coming out of your nose. He raises the stone to the dim light from outside and inspects it thoughtfully. You feel disgusting and helpless. You want to wipe the snot away, but you only have your t-shirt and you don’t want to completely ruin it.  
“Well.” He says finally. “You’re a tough little thing aren’t you, carrying a wound like that all this time.” He absently pulls a handkerchief from his coat pocket and gives it to you. You take it and clean yourself up as best you can.  
“Keeping up with spies and assassins.” He continues. “Begging favours from your god.” He pockets the piece of stone and stands up.  
“Come on, little one.” He urges you. “Get up.”  
You struggle to your feet, trembling from the exertion it takes to do so. The bag is too heavy, but you carry it with a grim determination. He takes the soiled handkerchief off you, folds it closed and reopens it before handing it back. The tears and snot are gone and it smells freshly laundered.  
“Put it on the wound.” He tells you. “Your bleeding is unsightly.” You press it to your side and fight to stop the tears falling anew.  
“Now…” His smile is predatory. “Let’s go and watch your friends get captured, shall we?”


	3. Godly Favours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let’s just say that any deal you strike with me will not go well for you.”
> 
> “I’m sitting in the middle of a war zone, my parents are dead…” You pause and swallow hard. “My friends are about to lose against an army of conquering aliens and I’m sitting here talking with a god who’s going to rule the rest of my life.” You lick your lips, your mouth has gone dry. “It’s already going badly for me, don’t you think?”  
> “You think this is the worst that could happen to you?” He asks and you can barely think straight, your heart is hammering so hard.  
> “No.” You say, surprised the words are still coming. “Not by a long shot. But I think I’m pretty committed to my course now.” You look him straight in the eye and try not to lose you nerve. “So are you going to deal or not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the real bite of the story gets going. 
> 
> Oh my god this story is melting my brain, I just have to get it out. It seems to be eating my life at the moment, glad I don't have any other projects on. :)
> 
> So expect another chapter in the next few days.

*

“Are they all dead?” You ask it without thinking. You’ve spent all day outside seeing no one else and wondering if the whole city has been killed. The question bubbles it way to the surface and before you know it – it’s there, out in the open. When he’s told you to keep quiet. The God-King has his arm around your shoulders, steering you out into the light. His hand is resting on the back of your neck, his fingers slightly curled and his thumb resting on your spine. He drums his finger tips on your skin and you know he’s considering whether to hit you again.  
“Is who dead?” He asks eventually.  
“The city.”  
“The whole of New York?” You nod and he chuckles. “No. The whole city isn’t dead.”  
“Then the people…”  
“Fled or evacuated. By us or by them. Mostly by us, we control the air space.”  
“Where are you taking them?”  
“Out of the conflict for now. I’ll decide what happens later, once things have settled down.”  
“So many people are dead…”  
“It wasn’t mean to be like this. The take-over was meant to be swift and painless. Then your friends turned up and the battle raged out of control.”  
“You can’t blame them for all this.”  
“Then who do you blame?” His question is mild but you bite down on the real answer. This man is not friendly, you say the wrong thing and he will beat the hell out of you.  
“I… I don’t know.” You say and you know it sounds lame. He chuckles again.  
“You need to learn how to lie, child.”  
“I’ve not had much practice.” You surprise yourself with this answer. It makes you seem weak, but you need to seem weak right now. You need him to think you’re not worth the effort. His eyes flicker and you know he’s seen through your ploy, but he just looks away.  
“Better.” He says and you know, for whatever reason, he’s letting it go. 

Black Widow and Hawkeye are fighting for their lives. You can’t believe how fast they are, how efficiently they kill and move on. They fight like a team, knowing where the other is at all times, watching each other’s backs, keeping everything moving. But you can see the reinforcements coming in, a tide of those strange flying craft, like the one that took out your apartment. Bigger ones too, more like troop carriers, divulging more and more of the enemy on the street. They’re outnumbered and outgunned. They’re tiring too, you can see it as they fight. They’ve been working at their peak for days now without any real time to rest or recuperate. It really is just a matter of time. 

The God-King steers you out of the shop front and across the street. There’s a low wall there and he makes you sit down and drop your backpack at your feet. It’s a good vantage point for the fighting, but further away and probably safer. You expect Hawkeye to take a shot at him, but the arrow doesn’t come.  
“He can’t see us.” The God-King says as if he can read your thoughts.  
“How?” You ask and the man grins.  
“Magic.” He says and you frown and look back to the fighting.  
“Magic?” You say in a ‘sure talk down to me’ kind of way and the God-King tuts softly. His fingers find another wound on your back, just under the neck of your t-shirt and he digs his nails in. You arch your spine and he holds your shoulder to steady you.  
“I don’t like you tone, child.” He says.  
“I’m sorry!” You say it too quickly and he smiles. He holds you like that for a long moment, with the threat of hideous pain hanging in the air and then he lets you go. 

“Are you going to kill me?” The question just blurts its way out.  
“Perhaps.” The God-King jumps onto the wall and crouches down beside you like some large bird of prey. His coat trails down the back and he’s wearing a well cut suit underneath. He turns his attention to the spectacle in front of you. “If you keep asking stupid questions.”  
“Are you going to kill them?” You ask.  
“Do you think I would waste so much man power if I was going to kill them?” He looks up at the damaged Chitauri ship. “I could have had you blown out of the sky last night, if I had wished it.”  
You follow his gaze and you shiver.  
“Then why…?”  
“Hope’s a terrible thing, don’t you think?” He says. “Almost getting out, almost escaping and then…” He sees your expression and he laughs. “And I was getting Tony Stark comfortable in his new quarters. I didn’t have time to chase you. Thank you for slowing down their escape, by the way.”  
You swallow hard against the bile in your throat.  
“I knew if I sent you across their path, their precious morals would make them stop to save you. Then it was just a matter of making sure you crashed in the right place so that it would take a while to get out on foot.”  
He sees the hatred in your eyes and clips you around the ear. It doesn’t hurt much, but it’s humiliating. He did it to make you feel helpless and you look down at your feet. You expect him to grab your head and force it up. To make you watch the losing fight in front of you. To do something a tacky villain would do to a helpless kid watching their friends getting beaten up. But he doesn’t move and you can feel his gaze on you, inquisitive and evaluating. 

“Why were you there?” He asks you.  
“What?”  
“When I caught Tony Stark, why were you there?”  
“I live five blocks away.” You say and then pause. “Lived, I guess. I didn’t know where to go and help was too far away so I went to the Tower. The patrols, the Chitauri, they had gone further out, it seemed safer.”  
“You decided to hide in the heart of enemy territory?”  
“Sounds stupid when you put it like that.” You shrug. “But it made sense at the time. I saw Mr Stark go into the… into that…” You point at the sky. “And then I saw him fall out again. I just had to know.”  
“To know what?”  
“If he was going to die. I had to see.”  
“To bear witness?”  
“I guess.” You shrug again.  
“And now you witness the capture of Black Widow and Hawkeye. You see the end of your new gods as they are replaced by the old. We come to reclaim this little world, child and we don’t like to be usurped.”  
“We?” You ask.  
“I will rule here. I will be the only god you will ever know.”  
“But there are others?” You ask and for a second you think you’ve gone too far. He frowns and you think he’s going to hurt you again.  
“Pray you never meet them.” He says and you just nod. He looks pensive and glances up at the ship. His eyes move to the void, back down to the fight and then to you. You don’t say anything. This man, this god, this king sitting next to you scares you right down to the core. If the other gods frighten him, you just don’t want to know. You deliberately turn to watch the combat and he follows suit. 

Black Widow and Hawkeye are still fighting as hard as they were when you crossed the street. You can’t understand how they can keep going like that. You remember a few fights at school when you were outnumbered. It had lasted seconds at best and then you were on the ground being kicked in the ribs and jeered at. Black Widow’s out of bullets and the guns lie discarded at her feet. But she had these sticks, some sort of cross between a Taser and a cattle prod and she taking Chitauri out with them like they’re not even fighting back. Hawkeye still has arrows, but he’s mostly using the bow as an offensive weapon. He uses the main haft to deflect any incoming attacks and the tips take out eyes and sweep legs and bite into the soft parts of the Chitauri armour. And then he turns and looses and the alien about to stab Black Widow in the back falls down with an arrow in the neck. He has a few explosive ones as well that he keeps putting into the aircraft landing all around them. 

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” The God-King murmurs. “The way that they dance with death.”  
You look at him, surprised by the sentiment.  
“These two are the strongest of the Avengers, really.” He continues. “Look at them, mere mortals, but so perfectly trained and seasoned in what they do. They have no super strength, no magical weapons, no flying armour, just their skills and their wits and their reflexes. The others are just experiments in science gone awry, but these two…” He gestures as Black Widow flips backwards and slams one of the sticks through the helmet of a Chitauri about to land a blow on Hawkeye. The weapon slams through the armour and seems to cook its head from the inside out. But before it has time to fall she’s already disengaging and closing on another two running towards her. “…Imagine what Captain America could do if he was that well trained, or the monster that resides in the one they call Banner. It’s a shame I will have to make them kill each other.”  
“What, why?” You ask.  
“I made her a promise. One made in anger, but still a very definite promise. A god has to keep his word.”  
“If you didn’t mean it, then it doesn’t matter. You’re in charge, you can change your mind.” You say, the urgency in your words mirroring the horror in your heart.  
“I did mean it. And I have to. A king cannot show any weakness.” He makes a face as if what he has just said tastes bad in his mouth.  
“Mercy isn’t weakness.” You say and he gives a dark little laugh.  
“You’ve watched too many of your films.” He tells me. “Ones where the rulers are kind and the heroes always win.” 

“What can I do? What can I do to change your mind?” You ask earnestly and his face turns cruel.  
“Would you offer anything?” He asks and you physically pull away from him as you mentally backpedal from the conversational abyss he’s opened in front of you. He looks at you with scorn and you know you can’t back down.  
“What do you want?” You say very carefully. “We’ll work from there.”  
“A compromise?”  
“Yes.”  
“How old are you?” He asks and for a moment you almost give the lie you always do to adults who ask that question. Normally you say eighteen and wait to see if you get away with it. But it strikes you that he might take you at your word and he’d probably be much crueller to an adult than a minor.  
“Fourteen.” You say and he looks disgusted.  
“You’re barely out of the womb.” He says and you bristle at the insult.  
“How old are you then?” You ask angrily and he laughs, the first real laugh you’ve heard from his lips.  
“How old do you think?”  
“I don’t know, you look early thirties. But I don’t know how gods age.”  
“Good answer.” He pauses in consideration. “Can you conceive how long a century is?”  
You stop to think about it.  
“Probably not.” You admit.  
“Then it doesn’t really matter, does it?” He says. “Let’s just say that any deal you strike with me will not go well for you.” 

“I’m sitting in the middle of a war zone, my parents are dead…” You pause and swallow hard. “My friends are about to lose against an army of conquering aliens and I’m sitting here talking with a god who’s going to rule the rest of my life.” You lick your lips, your mouth has gone dry. “It’s already going badly for me, don’t you think?”  
“You think this is the worst that could happen to you?” He asks and you can barely think straight, your heart is hammering so hard.  
“No.” You say, surprised the words are still coming. “Not by a long shot. But I think I’m pretty committed to my course now.” You look him straight in the eye and try not to lose you nerve. “So are you going to deal or not?”  
“For their lives?”  
“For their lives.”  
“I will take yours.” He says and for one heart stopping moment you think he’s going to kill you. And then it sinks in that, no, he means something far worse. Something you can’t even imagine. “And a token of your determination.”  
“What does that mean?”  
“An act of true bravery. You will face down a monster and you will not run away.”  
“What kind of monster?”  
“If you know in advance, you would be prepared. No. I will not tell you.”  
“That’s a deal breaker.” You say and he gives a half smile.  
“Really? Are you sure?” And he knows that he’s got you. 

“Okay, so my life and this crazy test and you’ll let them live?”  
“If they behave.”  
“No.” You say and he looks surprised. “No hidden clauses. You won’t kill them, no matter what they do and you won’t get any of your people to kill them either, or any of your subjects. Or them.” You point to the ship and the vast empty space behind it. “Or those gods I never want to meet.” You pause for a minute and then press on. “Oh and you won’t use your ‘magic’ to make them kill themselves, kill each other or walk off a cliff. If I’m going to give you my entire life, then you’re going to stick to the spirit of this agreement. They live and you will not interfere. Full stop.”  
The smile he gives you is almost paternal. Like he’s watching a baby take its first steps.  
“Very well.” The God-King says. “But if they escape my grasp then I withhold to right to hunt them down and destroy them.”  
“Okay, but you’ll make it quick if you catch them again. None of this drawn out, torture over days, getting their best friend to kill them bullshit.”  
“Bullshit?” He asks.  
“Bullshit.” You agree. “You can guess what it means.”  
“I think I do.” He nods. “Very well, child. We have an agreement.” He holds out his hand and you take it without thinking. You regret it immediately as you skin begins to burn. You howl and try to pull away, but your hand is trapped and you can’t do anything as the light gets brighter and brighter.  
“And so it is witnessed.” The God-King says and releases you. You’re scared to see, frightened at what a mess he might have made of you. But you can’t help it and you look down with trepidation, wincing as you open your hand. He’s burned a symbol into your palm. A Celtic knot design which forms an intricate pattern and in the centre, intertwined with the pattern is a small, circular, gold metal disk. It’s actually gold, like he’s melted metal into your skin.   
“And now you’re mine.” He says.  
“So long as they live.”  
“So long as they live.” He agrees.


	4. Strong As Marble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He won’t make Clint kill me?” She asks eventually.  
> “No he promised. But I guess he didn’t say he’s make your life fun either. He just can’t push you to suicide.”   
> “And what did you get in return?” She asks.  
> “What?”   
> “What limits did you set for your own incarceration?”   
> You blink stupidly.   
> “I didn’t… I didn’t think…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where Natasha drops the truth bomb and the main character realises they are in some serious trouble. 
> 
> Sorry, this is another talky chapter, but it's some serious conversation that the character needs to have and it rounds off this bit of the story nicely. It also paves the way for later on in the series, so stay with me. :) 
> 
> The Chitauri prison ship is purely poetic license. I haven't researched it or anything and I don't know much about the Chitauri beyond the films, so I just let my imagination off the hook. 
> 
> The next chapter will be action again, I promise. :)

*

Hawkeye turns side on to dodge the energy blast aimed at his mid-drift, reaches for an arrow and realises he’s run out. In the split second of realisation, he takes the second blast in the ribs. He goes down hard, but lands on his forearms, rolls and grabs a handful of gravel. You don’t even see his hands move, but the firing Chitauri goes down as stones punch into its throat and face with devestating accuracy. Hawkeye tries to stand, stumbles because of the injury to his ribs and takes a blow across the back of the head by an incoming shock trooper. Black Widow tries to intervene, but she’s busy dealing with a sudden rush of fighters and by the time she turns to help, Hawkeye is already pinned to the ground. Black Widow fights on valiantly and takes another five of the Chitauri before she’s knocked down by a particularly large fighter. She sweeps her attacker off its feet, raises the sticks above her head and loses one to an energy bolt that rips it from her hand. The weapon lands ten feet away, the plastic twisted and melted beyond repair. She slams the remaining stick in the brainpan of the Chitauri underneath her. A final show of defiance before she too is overwhelmed.

“Time to play.” The God-King says. He stands and steps off the wall, flicking his coat behind him. You gape as the grey wool turns into a black and green, ankle length cloak with a high collar. His suit becomes the leather armour you saw at Stark Tower and his helmet just materialises around his head, the great golden horns curving backwards.   
“Come.” He gestures to you and you have just enough time to sling your backpack on before he’s grabbing you by the shoulder and pushing you in front of him.   
“I’m impressed.” He calls out as he walks forward, clapping in a slow and sarcastic manner. You walk before him, not sure what else to do and when you get within a few steps of the Avengers the God-King pushes you onto your knees.   
“Kid…” Hawkeye struggles against the Chitauri holding him down with little to no effect.   
“He was in the store. He caught me. I couldn’t get out in time. I’m sorry…” You tell him and your god cuffs you around the head for speaking out of turn.   
“Loki!” Hawkeye manages to lift himself almost to his knees in his fury. “You damn coward!”   
“Why? For disciplining a child?” The God-King asks, obviously amused by the concept. He hits you again, just to watch Hawkeye’s reaction and the man smoulders with anger beneath the four Chitauri holding him down. You notice Black Widow has gone tense and silent, but she doesn’t struggle. She’s waiting, conserving her energy in case of an opening, though shes watching you intently. 

The God-King lifts his arm and the sceptre appears as if it had always been there.   
“Lift him up.” He tells his soldiers and the Chitauri force Hawkeye to his feet. The man struggles with growing desperation as the God-King, with an evil smile on his lips, slowly lowers the point onto the man’s chest. Hawkeye gives on final, defiant shout and spits in the God-King’s face as the sceptre makes contact and his body begins to spasm. The god doesn’t seem to notice the attack in the slightest.   
“Lift her up.” He says as the sceptre begins to finish its work. In a crazy moment of bravery you stand and put yourself between him and Black Widow. The God-King looks at you with annoyance, but waits until he has Hawkeye under his complete control. He wipes the spit from his cheek and then puts his hand in front of Hawkeyes face.   
“Lick it off.” He tells him and you watch with horror as the man does as he is told. He sucks the God-King fingers and then pulls back, his eyes filled with frost. The Chitauri let him go and move away. The God-King turns to regard you. You’re shaking with terror, but determined to see this through.   
“You can’t do this.” You protest. “You promised.”  
“Both of them with live, little one.” The God-King tells you. “They will have long and productive lives under my command. I can’t let them run around unshackled, they are far too dangerous.”   
“No. They would rather die than serve this way and you agreed.” 

The God-King exhales in anger and reaches out. The sceptre stops less than a quarter inch from your chest and you stare at it with dread. The sharp tip takes up your entire world as it hovers so close to taking your will away. The gem stone pulses in an alien and unnatural light, threatening to cover your heart in frost forever.   
“Please.” You whisper, barely able to speak. “I gave you my life…”   
The God-King sighs. He lowers the sceptre and you begin to breathe again.  
“Very well.” He says. “I will let the woman have her freedom for now. But I’m keeping this man – I owe him that much.” He addresses Black Widow. “If you behave my dear, I will be lenient with your partner in arms.” Black Widow nods once in agreement.   
“Are you happy?” He asks you and you blink and nod. You can’t believe that he’s going to listen to you. “Good, as here is your punishment.” He raises his hand, makes a gesture and pain blossoms inside your head. You scream in agony and your body crumples to the floor as you clutch at your temples. You’re aware that your god is leaning over you as you writhe on the floor.   
“This is the one and only time you are able to use the argument of our agreement against me.” He tells you in playful tones, which makes the threat far more terrifying. “Try it again and… Well, you’ll find out.” You can hear the evil grin in his voice.  
The pain disappears as suddenly as it came, but you lie on the floor gasping in its aftermath.  
“I’m sorry.” You gasp out. “I’m sorry.”  
“Not nearly sorry enough. But it will do for now.” He gestures to the Chitauri. “Take her to the prison ship.” He turns on his heel, pauses and looks down at you. “And take the idiot as well.”   
Hawkeye steps forward and roughly brings you to your feet. He twists your wrist in a controlling lock and drives you forward. You glance behind you to see the God-King climbing into another craft. He sees you watching, waves regally at you and Hawkeye cuffs you hard around the head, bringing tears to your eyes. You lower your gaze in the hope that it will show your willingness to comply and you don’t look back again. It seems to be enough and you are not struck a second time as you make your way to the waiting aircraft.

The prison craft is slender and long, like the huge cybernetic monsters which are still flying overhead. It is segmented at regular intervals, but doesn’t appear to be alive. You're taken to the rear of the craft, where the door is only big enough for single file. Black Widow is shoved inside by the four Chitauri holding her, but they do not follow her and instead just walk away as if they have other business to attend to. There is the sound of a struggle in the confines of the ship before everything goes quiet once again. Hawkeye just waits patiently, his face expressionless. Then from some unseen signal he pushes you through the doorway. 

Black Widow is already seated off to one corner. Her arms are held behind her back by some weird, rigid silver binders that shimmer with some sort of force-field and her legs are held the same way just below the calf. She’s strapped tightly into her seat with black strips of fabric that look like some sort of organic, living, pulsing leather. Something moves above you and you look up and nearly wet yourself. There are Chitauri in the ceiling, part of the actual ceiling, on what appears to be a runner system. They have no legs, but some sort of waist-thick robotic arm instead that comes down into the room. Their mid-section comes out of it and they move with the arm as if they are in perfect harmony with their fixed lower half. They’re also twice the size of the mobile Chitauri outside. They finish binding Black Widow and then turn to you, lengthening the robot arm from above so they are at your height. They scan you with some sort of device and then do the same to Hawkeye. All appears to be in order as they retract towards the roof of the ceiling and a large pane of thick glass comes down over the entrance you came through to seal you from the outside world. As soon as the glass is locked in, the Chitauri move their hands in sequence along the surface and a strange purple, sheet lightening glow starts to move inside. It’s like those spheres you used to get in science museums, where you put your hand on them and the electrical lightening grounds along your fingers. But you guess this one will probably hurt. A lot. 

You look ahead and see that this section holds six seats, all empty except for Black Widow. There is another sheet of electric purple glass and then another six seats, this time with people in. They look beaten and frightened. Beyond them is another sheet and six filled seats and another compartment after that. There is no lighting except for the electric purple and the bright outlines cast by the Chitauri in the ceiling. The compartments disappear into the distance and you can’t hear anything beyond your own small space. There are hundreds of people in here, all being taken god knows where. You laugh at the thought, yes your god probably does know where, but he’s less likely to tell you than your old, Christian god. Now that the ship is full, the cybernetic prison guards fold up into the ceiling and seem to shut down. But you’re sure they will reactivate at any sign of trouble. Hawkeye takes you over to sit next to Black Widow and straps you in with two pieces of the black organic stuff, one along the waist and one across the chest. It feels weird, warm, damp and disgusting – you can feel it pulsing against your skin. He sits down next to you, straps himself down in the same way and then puts a hand on your knee. It isn’t a friendly gesture, more of a silent way to tell you to stay still. Then the aircraft lurches up into the air, from the front first, like some sort of rollercoaster ride. It makes the whole experience nauseating and you see several of the people in the other compartment throwing up. You wait for the craft to level out and clamp down on the urge to vomit. You haven’t been allowed to take off your backpack and the cans press hard into your skin. 

Black Widow’s face is hard and drawn. She’s worried, maybe even afraid, but she isn’t going to admit it.   
“Don’t worry.” You say and she glances at you. “He’s not going to kill you or let you die.”  
“Kid.” She says and she sighs. “The last time we met, Loki made some very specific threats as to what he was going to do to me in this situation.”  
“He was going to make Hawkeye kill you.” You say and she stares at you.   
“How did you know?” She demands.   
“Because He told me. The God-King Loki.”   
Black Widow makes a face at the title.  
“And I did a deal with him to stop him from doing it.” You continue.  
“A deal?” Black Widow asks, her tone clipped and suspicious.   
You show her the mark on your hand.   
“I gave my life for yours.”  
“What do you mean?” She asks and so you spend the next minute or so explaining the full agreement and her eyes begin to narrow.

“Why did you do that?” She asked. “What possessed you to be so stupid?!” You’re taken aback by the vehemence in her voice.   
“To protect you both. To save you.”   
“And do we look like we need saving?” She snaps. “No. Don’t answer that.” She growls when she sees the trite answer on your lips. “You don’t know us. You’ve been with us for less than a day.”  
“But you saved me.”  
“We didn’t save you!” She snaps. “Look around you.”   
“It was my fault you stayed. It was my fault that you got caught. I had to make it up to you.”   
“We’re not nice people. I mean we’re trying to be, we’re trying to make up for all the red in our past, but we didn’t deserve your sacrifice.”  
“Why not? It was my sacrifice to give. And I had nothing else to offer.” You tell her in earnest. “Look, I’m fourteen, I suck at sport and at any type of contact game. I can’t fight my way out of anything. I can’t stop this, I can’t save the world. Maybe you can.”   
“He’s never going to let us go.” Black Widow sounds defeated and you’re about to say something to the contrary when she catches your eye and glances at Hawkeye. The man is still just staring straight ahead and she mouths ‘spy’. You nod, of course anything you say in his hearing will get back to the God-King. You almost kick yourself for your stupidity.   
“Well at least you get to live. At least you get that.” You say, allowing the real desperation in your thoughts to come through in your voice and Black Widow nods approvingly and then lets her face dissolve into pretend distress. It looks exactly like the real thing, only you know any different. 

“He won’t make Clint kill me?” She asks eventually.  
“No he promised. But I guess he didn’t say he’s make your life fun either. He just can’t push you to suicide.”   
“And what did you get in return?” She asks.  
“What?”   
“What limits did you set for your own incarceration?”   
You blink stupidly.   
“I didn’t… I didn’t think…” You say and suddenly all the horrible things that could happen to you come crashing down.   
“You made no provisions for yourself?” Black Widow asks in disbelief.  
“I had less than five minutes to convince him. I didn’t have the time.”  
“He rushed you into selling yourself into slavery?” Black Widow uses a school teacher voice and you hang your head.   
“Yes. And I fell for it, didn’t I?” You look at the golden mark on your hand. “Well it’s too late now.” You sigh.  
Black Widow, presses her knee against yours, the only physical contact she can manage in her restraints.   
“Thank you.” She says. “For what you did. We don’t deserve it, but thank you. You’re a survivor. Remember that, you can survive this, I know you can. Other people might break, but you are as strong as marble. And I know Clint would thank you, if he could.” 

Suddenly the ship begins to descend in its front-led rollercoaster way and you know that the short journey is over.   
“Hawkeye.” You say, your voice desperate. You have so much more you wanted to talk about. You put your hand over the one he has on your knee and he looks down at you coldly.   
“I forgive you.” You say quickly. “Whatever he makes you do to me. I know it isn’t you, I know it’s the sceptre. Whatever happens, I want you to know that I don’t hold you responsible for your actions. Anything you do to me, you don’t need to be forgiven for – you already have it, I already give it.”   
Was that a flicker of brown? For a moment, did the cold blue of his eyes change back? You hope so, you pray so. Please let him still be in there somewhere, watching and waiting for his chance to break free.  
“I’m as strong as marble.” You mutter to yourself as the rear end of the craft alights on the ground.  
“I’m as strong as marble.” The Chitauri in the ceiling unfold to open the glass partition to the exit.   
“I’m as strong as marble.” Hawkeye removes his restraints and stands to remove yours. He takes your wrist in the same lock hold as before and makes you gain your feet. As he marches you out of the cell, you realise that Black Widow is not going to join you.   
“I will not break.” You say to yourself as you walk out into the bright sunshine and see that the God-King is already waiting for you. His smile is wide and you know he has something terrible planned for you.  
‘I will not break.’ You repeat over and over in your head.   
You wish you could believe it.


	5. An Act Of True Bravery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You become aware of the sounds of combat not too far away, maybe a block at most, and you begin to tremble.  
> “Remember our agreement. You will face down this monster and you will not run away. If you do… Well you know what will happen.” He smiles down at me. “I do not need to be crass and make threats, do I?”  
> “No.” You agree. The ground suddenly heaves like something heavy has hit the ground, an explosion rocks the buildings and pieces of a Chitauri craft spin into view, heading off down the street away from you. You stop dead and give a small whimper, you can’t help it, and your god pauses to let you gather your wits.  
> “It’s good to be afraid, right?” You whisper.  
> “In your situation it is only natural. You can only be truly brave if you are utterly afraid.” The God-King says and you nod and begin to steel yourself for the upcoming confrontation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be aware that the archive warnings for this story are about to happen in this chapter. Not gonna say who and spoil it, but you have been warned. Graphic scenes of violence and body mutilation as well. 
> 
> Gee, this is getting dark...

*

Hawkeye releases your wrist ten feet from your god and shoves you forward the rest of the way.  
“You won’t need this.” The God-King says and he takes your backpack from you. He watches your momentary resistance and sighs. “You will get it back, you have my word.” He throws it to Hawkeye who catches it and drops it at his feet.  
“Now.” He turns to walk away and gestures for you to follow him. “You will fulfil the rest of your promise.”  
“The monster?” You ask and feel your stomach knotting in trepidation. “So soon?”  
“Afraid?” The God-King asks and you nod. “Good. Fear is healthy for a young heart.” 

Two Chitauri step forward. One is holding a struggling woman, forcing her arms behind her back. The other is carrying a strange handheld, gun-like device that has a large glass tube along its main body. The tube is three inches long, almost an inch in diameter and is filled with some kind of clear fluid. It’s encased snuggly inside a thin cage of metal. The Chitauri gives you the handheld weapon and you look to your god in question.  
“This will dispense one measure of sedative into the woman in front of you.” The God-King says. He leans over you to show you the trigger and where the injection takes place. “You place the tip of the device against the skin of the neck, as close to the jugular as is possible and then you pull the trigger. It is a fool proof injection method.”  
“You want me to inject her?”  
“Yes.”  
“Why?”  
“So I know you understand how to implement your instructions.” The God-King sounds patient, but you know he won’t stay that way for long. You step forward and the Chitauri forces the woman to her knees.  
“Don’t.” She begs you. “Please don’t.”  
You ignore her and put the gun-like device against her neck. You move it slightly to match up with her jugular and you bite your lip in concentration as you pull the trigger. The device responds so quickly you almost drop it and only your instinct for self-preservation keeps your hand firm and steady. It takes less than five seconds for the full dose of sedative to leave the gun and the woman stares accusingly at you for the entire time. You pull back, standing up straight again with the gun hanging limply in your hand as the woman begins to sag in the Chitauri’s arms. After thirty seconds, she grows deathly still.  
“Have I killed her?” You voice is high pitched and you feel the God-King’s hand on your shoulder.  
“Does it matter?” He asks nonchalantly as the Chitauri carries the woman away.  
“Yes it matters!” You choke out. “Have you just made me kill someone?”  
“Which answer would you prefer?” The God-Kings asks in a taunting voice.  
“She begged me not to…”  
“And you did it anyway. Because I told you to, because you are mine. Blame me if you must, but remember that you pulled the trigger.” He runs his index finger across your cheek and you flinch away. The words ‘I hate you’ almost bubble to the surface, but you force them down. The God-King chuckles and you know he can read your sentiment. You look up at him and see him watching you intently. You know he’s waiting for you to say something stupid, so you look away and do your best to ignore him.  
“A wise decision.” The God-King agrees. 

The Chitauri takes the injector from your hand and replaces the large glass tube with a blueish liquid.  
“Now you have proved you know how to use this, I have given you a dose of sedative which will bring down the monster you are going to face.” The God-King is moving forward and bringing you along by the grip he has on your upper arm.  
“How on earth will I line it up with its jugular?” You ask incredulously.  
“You will understand, when the time comes.” He tells you.  
You become aware of the sounds of combat not too far away, maybe a block at most, and you begin to tremble.  
“Remember our agreement. You will face down this monster and you will not run away. If you do… Well you know what will happen.” He smiles down at you. “I do not need to be crass and make threats, do I?”  
“No.” You agree. The ground suddenly heaves like something heavy has hit the ground, an explosion rocks the buildings and pieces of a Chitauri craft spin into view, heading off down the street away from you. You stop dead and give a small whimper, you can’t help it, and your god pauses to let you gather your wits.  
“It’s good to be afraid, right?” You whisper.  
“In your situation it is only natural. You can only be truly brave if you are utterly afraid.” The God-King says and you nod and begin to steel yourself for the upcoming confrontation. 

You aren’t ready. You’ll never be ready. This is your realisation as you turn the corner and take in the scene in front of you. It’s the beast you saw at Stark Tower. More than fifteen feet tall, thick with muscle and covered in deep green skin. It’s the thing that killed all those people and you’re almost hyperventilating at the thought of having to approach it. There are Chitauri swarming all around it, moving in close then darting just out of reach again. Keeping it interested, keeping it pinned down – you swallow in the sudden knowledge. They were waiting for you to arrive. The few aliens that aren’t quick enough get snatched out of the air by hands the size of your torso and… You feel your bile rising. Oh god, don’t let that happen to you…

The God-King shoves you in the back with so much force that you’re running forward just to stop yourself falling face first into the rubble at high speed. The Chitauri seem to suddenly disappear on some unheard signal and then it’s just you and beast in the middle of what used to be a building.  
“Stop!” You wonder who’s just spoken and then realise it was you. Are you crazy? You take a few steps backwards to give yourself some space as the monster turns. It bellows at you, an ear splitting noise, and you feel a warm liquid trickling down your leg. The only thing that stops you running is the fact that your knees are locked in place. The beast walks up to you, literally shoving its giant face inches in front of your own. It growls like a lion, the sound reverbing deep inside that massive chest and you’re nothing more than a frozen rabbit, waiting for the end. It looks at you with the utmost of distain and then turns to leave. With a single bound it’s almost out of the building site entirely. 

“No!” You shout out, raising your empty hand. The fear of what will happen to you, to Hawkeye and Black Widow if you let the monster leave drives you to find your voice.  
“No. Don’t go, please. Stop this.”  
It turns and bares its teeth at you and you’re surprised at the white uniformity of them. They’re human teeth, not animal. It’s strange, but somehow it calms you a little. This thing might be human, you might be able to reason with it. Now that you’re thinking straight you see that the creature is wearing… trousers...? Purple and ripped, sure, but definitely clothing. You take an unsteady step forward. You feel your knees creak in protest.  
“You have to stop now.” You say. You’re surprised your voice only trembles slightly when you talk. The beast steps towards you again and you cringe halfway to the floor as it just looms over you.  
“You’ve killed so many people.” You tell it. “When you were at Stark Tower, you dislodged a pane of glass. It landed on a group of twenty people and killed half of them.”  
The creature grumbles angrily as if in denial.  
“I saw it.” You start to cry. “I saw it. They never stood a chance. How many more have you killed?”  
The green monster starts to shift from foot to foot like a large gorilla. God, those hands, they could crush you to death by accident. You remember the crushed skulls of the Chitauri in you apartment. Crushed by some unimaginable force… 

“My parents are dead.” You say suddenly. “A craft came through my window. Was thrown through my window… It killed them both, mum instantly and dad… He, he bled out in front of me. Did you throw it? Can you even keep track of the things you attack? Of the collateral damage you leave behind? You killed my parents… You killed them.” And you know it’s true and you’re crying so hard you’re covering half your face in snot. And you’re so tired, you don’t give a damn anymore. And the green monster is just grumbling and shifting and you can’t take it.  
“You killed my parents!” You scream in its face and it pulls back and looks… Worried? Frightened? Ashamed? You can’t tell. It reaches one of its massive hands out towards you and you touch the thick rough green skin of its index finger. Its other hand comes forward and touches you on the cheek and somehow you don’t flinch at the contact. It moves its hand away with a long thread of snot attached and it shakes it with a grunt of disgust and you’re laughing. You’re hysterical. This thing killed your parents and now it’s going to kill you too and you can’t stop it. Better this way, better than facing the God-King with urine down your trouser legs and snot plastered all over your face.  
“Go on.” You urge it, still laughing. “Go on. Finish it, murder me as well.”

The monster pulls back and makes an almost human noise of denial. For whatever reason it’s decided to let you live and you hate it all the more. You want to die, you don’t want to return to the God-King and at least this creature would make it quick. It’s large face screws up in indecision and it turns and runs away, though its strides are not as big as before. In your madness you chase it. It’s hard to keep up, but you’re almost flying off your adrenaline and you want to hound this beast to its lair. You’ve run about two hundred yards when suddenly the monster jerks as if it’s been hit and falls to its knees. The green begins to shift in patches and the muscles seems to expand and contract. The skin starts to take on a human colour tone and the beast crawls forwards a few steps as if in complete agony. You walk around it, keeping your distance as the body shrinks and contorts until it is just a man in very baggy purple pants. A big man, he’s tall and looks like he works out, but just a man. He seems much smaller than he really is because of how insanely huge he was a moment ago. His breathing is heavy and you realise that he’s exhausted. He looks at you and sees your pain and your anger.  
“I’m sorry.” He gasps out. “I’m sorry about your family.”  
“Fuck you.” You say and you press the gun to his neck and you pull the trigger. 

You’re sitting in the rubble with your legs folded into your chest and with the injector hanging from your loose fingers when the God-King finally makes an appearance. You’ve cried yourself out and you know that the bastard on the ground isn’t dead because he’s still breathing steadily.  
“You wet yourself.” The God-King says in welcome. He gives you another handkerchief to wipe away the snot. “And you cry a lot don’t you?”  
“I didn’t run away.” You answer grumpily. “There was nothing in the agreement about not crying in terror or pissing myself to get the job done.”  
He laughs and looks down at the man who was the green monster.  
“He looks so peaceful.”  
“I injected him five minutes ago. You took you time.”  
The God-King cuffs you, but his heart isn’t in it and it ruffles your hair more than it hurts. He must be pleased with what you did. 

He’s holding the sceptre. With great care he kneels down beside the beast in human form and presses the tip against his chest. The man arches up, gasping and his eyes flicker a deep, dark green.  
“Interesting.” The God-King says. He removes the tip and the man sinks back down into slumber.  
“Did it work?” You ask indifferently.  
“No.”  
“So what do we do now?”  
“There are several options open to me.” The God-King looks at you. “Anything you want to add in his defence?”  
“He killed my parents.”  
“You are sure?”  
“I’m sure.” You glare down at the man. “But he wouldn’t kill me.”  
“It’s why I used you.” The God-King says. “I knew there was a high chance you’d be able to talk him down.”  
“And a small chance he’d crush me into the tarmac?”  
“A small chance, yes.”  
“I hate you.” The words are out before you can stop them and you cringe back expecting a blow. But the God-King just smiles.  
“Thank you. I try my best to be a bastard at all times.” He says and you grimace and look down at your old, busted-up shoes. They look exactly the way you feel. 

The God-King stands and walks away into the rubble. He comes back a few minutes later with an ordinary fire axe in his hand. The Chitauri are beginning to mass again overhead. You try to stand and get out of his way, but your knees rebel and you just fall painfully on your rump. So you scootch back instead to give your god some room. He walks up to the comatose monster with a deadly purpose. He raises the axe and brings it down in one quick, decisive movement. For one terrible second, you think it’s going to bounce and the monster is going to rise again from the rubble. But the man must be too exhausted and the sedative powerful enough to keep him down because he doesn’t move an inch and the axe cleaves his head from his shoulders in a single, clean stroke. 

The strength needed behind a blow to sever a human neck so cleanly is immense. In history, your teacher had a morbid fascination with such things and you know that the human neck is thick with bone and muscle and difficult to cut through, even with a very sharp axe. The fire axe wasn’t even all that sharp. Your god might look like a man, but he isn’t a man and if he wanted to he could snap you up into little tiny pieces with his bare hands. You bite your lip to stop yourself whimpering when he looks at you and you’re glad that you’ve already pissed yourself when you bladder twitches for the second time. 

The Chitauri descend on the body like a swarm and even the God-King stumbles backwards at the force of their intrusion. They put the monster’s head in a hermetically sealed glass jar, put tubes in his neck to collect his blood and they start to skin him. In a detached way you expect the man’s blood to be green, but it’s as red as any other person. As they begin to render down his muscle and bones you can’t help yourself and vomit onto the bricks. A few of the Chitauri turn from their work to look at you and you don’t like the speculation in their strange, cybernetic faces. The God-King steps between them and you in a protective gesture. They pull back and make soft guttural, electronic clicking noises before turning back to the remains of the monster.  
“Come on. Let’s get you away from here and cleaned up, little one.” The God-King offers his hand and you let him pull you to your feet. You stagger and he catches you.  
“You’ve had a long day, but I am pleased with you.” He pauses to consider. “Overall.”  
Half a dozen answers run through your head. Most of them uncomplimentary and you almost let rip with the sarcasm. But your survival instinct is as true as ever and it vetoes your decision.  
“Thank you.” You mutter and the God-King runs his fingers through your hair. 

Hawkeye is exactly where you left him and he picks up your backpack and throws it into the God-King’s flying ship. It’s got the royal livery on the side and is decked out in green leather and black drapes. The doors are plated with gold filigree.  
“Sorry to mess up your ride.” You mutter as Hawkeye helps you into the main carriage.  
“You can clean it up once you feel a bit better.” Your god tells you but you just sigh and sit down in the plush warmth. In a moment of exhausted weakness, you long to curl up in his lap or rest on his shoulder like you used to do with mum when dad was driving. To just have that moment of human connection after a long and terrifying couple of days. But you stop yourself. He might punish such over-familiarity and anyway, you don’t want him getting the wrong idea about how you feel about him. He did just shove you into a confrontation with a massive monster that could have killed you with its little finger. And he didn’t give you any back-up. That deserves some shunning, for sure. So you turn your back on him and bury your face into the soft leather in the corner of the couch.  
You feel his hand on your head as he ruffles your hair one more time.  
“Rest well.” He whispers as you sink into sleep.


	6. The Heartbeat of a God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why are you helping me?”  
> “You are no use to me as a panicking child.”  
> “I have a use?”  
> “Yes. I have a place for you. You are young, but you’re strong and you’re clever. Do you think I would waste an agreement on someone slow and dull?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I promised to update the Rebound first... It's about halfway done and will be up by the end of this week, I promise. But this story just *will not* leave me alone. 
> 
> This chapter is slightly shorter than the ones before, but I'm already into the next chapter, so expect it in a few days. This is really the start of the next phase of the story, so be ready for some pretty weird (and downright evil) psychological stuff as this goes on - Hence the new tags on the description.  
> But, hey, we all like weird psychological stuff right?
> 
> Again taking poetic liecense with the Chitauri and their goals and direction for the human race. (Experimentation, yay!) 
> 
> *Trigger warning for this chapter*: Severe panic attack.

*

You wake up with some confusion and in a pool of your own drool. Your legs are curled up underneath you and as you stretch out you give out a mumbled groan of pain from the heavy cramps in your arms and legs. There’s a crick in your neck and you find your movements sluggish as if you haven’t changed position for a long time. You’re still resting against the leather upholstery in the God-King’s flying machine and you are alone in the space. You spend a short while massaging your face and legs. Your cheeks hurt from being pressed against the couch for so long and your arms complain of the excessive movement. You spot your backpack on the floor and you take out a tin of mango pieces, three chocolate bars and a whole bottle of water. You’re starving and extremely thirsty and you make short work of your rations. After you’ve drank the water bottle dry, you suddenly feel guilty. What if this is all you get for a long while? You only have two bottles left now to ration out. But the edge has only been taken off your hunger and your thirst, so you decide that you needed it.

The door of the carriage is slightly ajar and you creep towards it cautiously. You don’t really want to know where you are, or run into the God-King yet – but neither do you want to spend too long in the carriage, in case someone comes back and locks you in. You’re gaining a strong fear of the idea of being cornered or trapped and the thought of having nowhere to run almost brings on a panic attack. You only just stave off the darkness, curling into a ball and breathing deeply until it passes. Your hot breath, deflecting from your knees and onto your cheeks is extremely comforting. 

Once you are sure you can continue, you push the carriage door open and find you are in a small room, a hanger space perhaps with a wall of glass behind you. The glass is darkly tinted and you can’t see out, but the whole thing hinges outward so it must have been how the craft got in. Your exploration triggers a movement sensor and the lights flicker on. You freeze as they do so and then relax when you realise they’re automated – that no one is in the room with you to turn them on manually. You’re still alone and safe in your own company. 

In the centre of the room is a bucket filled with water and a few sponges laid out on a towel. There’s a note written in a hand more used to a squarer, sharper lined script than English, but it’s elegant all the same.  
“Clean up your mess.” You read and then sigh. You suppose, compared to how you felt when you fell asleep that you do indeed feel ‘a bit better’ now. You pick up the bucket and the sponges and carry them into the carriage, where you do your best to get to work. 

You’ve wiped down the leather and are on your hands and knees wiping dust and grit off the floor when there is a sudden change in atmosphere. You turn towards the door and nearly jump out of skin when you see the God-King standing behind you. He’s no more than two feet away and leaning over to observe your work.  
“Shit!” You raise your hands in self-defence and the tip of your finger goes through the hologram, making it shimmer. You let out a sigh of both relief and exasperation.  
“You scared the living daylights out of me.” You snap.  
“That’s a strange turn of phrase.” The God-King says. He sounds like he’s in a good humour, his voice light and playful. “What are your ‘living daylights’, some form of magical ability I’m unaware of?”  
“What? No, no, it’s… It’s just a phrase… It means you nearly gave me a heart attack.”  
“Unlikely. You’re young and quite healthy. Your heart is in good shape.” He glances down at your chest and then back up to your face as if making sure. “Yes your beat is strong.”  
“It’s not…” You sigh again. “That’s not what I meant. But never mind, it doesn’t matter. You scared me, okay?”  
“Yes. That was my intention.”  
“Still doing your best to be a bastard, huh?” You grumble and are pulled up short by the warning twinge of pain in your head.  
“I might not actually be here. But don’t think I can’t punish you.” The God-King says in his quiet and polite ‘just pointing it out’ voice and you incline your head to him.  
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to say it. I’m tired and aching. Just a little grumpy, I guess.”  
“You should be more awake and aware than this. You woke up thirty minutes ago. I thought I’d give you some time to reacclimatise, but it seems I wasted my effort.”  
“How long was I asleep?” You ask, deciding to ignore his needling.  
“Two days. Give or take.”  
“Two days?” You blink in surprise. “And you just left me in your carriage?”  
“I have more than one. And it seemed prudent.”  
“It did?”  
“It meant that if you didn’t wake up, it would be easier to dispose of your body.”  
You give him a long, hard stare which the God-King returns with a slight smile on his lips. 

“You didn’t think I was going to make it?” You ask him once you find your voice again.  
“I had faith in you. But once the cramps and tiredness wears off, you’ll start to feel how injured you are.”  
“Is it bad?”  
“I have one of your physicians on stand by for you. You’re full of tiny bits of rock and your right arm appears to be badly infected under the scab.” The God-King’s voice is dispassionate and you grip your arm in worry. Then you hiss as a burning pain blossoms along you outer forearm.  
“From when I fell in the gravel. When you tripped me.”  
“That’s right.”  
“That was a mean trick.”  
“I try.”  
You bite back your response. 

“So is your carriage clean enough? Or do you want to wait until I can barely move before you help me?” You ask, hoping you’re on the right side of sarcastic. He doesn’t bring on the pain, so you figure he’s still giving you the benefit of the doubt.  
“I can’t carry you and Barton is otherwise engaged. So I suppose I’ll let you finish your sub-standard job now so you can receive the aid you need.” He tells you.  
“Barton?”  
“Hawkeye.”  
“Ah. Okay.” You stand, stretch and grimace at all the aches.  
“Where am I?” You ask and the God-King smiles and you know he isn’t going to tell you.  
“Fine.” You shrug. “I guess it doesn’t matter. So long as we’re not on the ship.”  
“Would that frighten you?” He asks.  
“Yes.” You admit. “Are we?”  
“No. We’re still in New York. You wouldn’t like the ships, they don’t have much in the way of comfort.” He purses his lips. “Or amenities. Or style, or anything other than the base necessities for life.”  
“Sounds dull.”  
“It is not the correct abode of a god or a king. Be thankful you benefit from that.” You don’t think his voice could be anymore smug if he actively tried. 

“So where are you going to take me?” You ask and he looks down at you and sniffs with disapproval.  
“A shower first, I think.” He says. Can he even smell you as a hologram? You decide it might be rude to ask.  
“That would be nice.” You say instead.  
He gestures and the door out of the hanger opens with a small click.  
“Was I locked in?” You ask in sudden realisation.  
“Of course. More for your own safety than anything else. I can track you anywhere you go.”  
You run your fingers over the mark on your palm and fight down the sudden panic.  
“Because I’m yours?”  
“Yes.” He says and you just can’t stop the surging fear inside you. There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He knows where you are all the time. He’s got you cornered even when you can’t see him. You can’t escape, you can’t escape…

In a last, desperate attempt to stave off the madness you latch onto the rest of the conversation.  
“Why for my own safety?” You ask and he pauses to consider before deciding to answer.  
“The Chitauri are looking for healthy young humans to understand your race better. I couldn’t keep an eye on you all the time while you slept and I didn’t want them taking you away.”  
“The Chitauri are stealing children?” The panic in you is beginning to gain a foothold. This conversation isn’t helping.  
“Not stealing, repurposing. And adolescents rather than young children. Those that are going through puberty. They find it a fascinating process.”  
You shiver in disgust as your heart starts to thud loudly in your chest. Your head feels hot and the beat begins to thud in your temples as well.  
“But you needn’t worry. I will not allow them to take you.”  
“You’re repurposing me for something else?” You ask. Your head is spinning and you’re feeling quite detached from the conversation. Your panic is a gale in your head. You can barely concentrate on the outside world.  
“Yes. If you like.” The God-King smiles. “I think you have far more to offer than body chemistry.”  
“Well that’s comforting.” You say, feeling anything but. Nausea is beginning to build and your stomach feels like a tight, hard stone. You think you’re going to bring up what you’ve just eaten. Or maybe you’ll faint first. Yes losing consciousness would be nice…  
“Your heart is too fast.” He looks down at your chest again.  
“I’ll be okay.” You say, swallowing to try and combat the nausea, but he isn’t convinced.  
“You need to calm down.” He places one hand on your chest and splays the other one across the side of your head. You can feel the soft tingle of the holographic field and you try to pull away, but find that you can’t. He’s pinning you to the spot somehow and as you desperately cry for help, the panic swallows you whole. 

And then he’s there, in your thoughts, moving around. He catches the enveloping whirlwind and slows it down. You can feel him pushing against it, forcing it to subside. You feel your lungs taking their first deep breath in several minutes and it’s like coming up from drowning.  
“Listen to my heartbeat.” He tells you and you can hear it in your head. You can hear his heartbeat in your head! This is too weird. It’s a strange noise, strong and firm and steady. Yet not quite human – the rhythm is ever so slightly different.  
“How are you…?”  
“Hush. Listen. Try to calm your heart, to match it with mine.” His voice is full of authority, but warm as well, like a teacher explaining something difficult. You want to resist, but you’re too afraid. Even in your own mind he’s stronger than you are. So you do as he says, try to follow the cadence set out in front of you. You feel him taking your panic away, placing it in a box for later and separating your uncontrolled emotions into different compartments. You can’t work out how he’s doing it, like some sort of magician’s slight-of-hand. You can see the beginning and the end, but in the middle he’s just moving too quickly for you to follow.  
“It doesn’t matter how I’m doing it. Just concentrate, lose yourself to the rhythm in your mind. Let me lead you out of your fear.”  
“Why are you helping me?”  
“You are no use to me as a panicking child.”  
“I have a use?”  
“Yes. I have a place for you. You are young, but you’re strong and you’re clever. Do you think I would waste an agreement on someone slow and dull?”  
“You used me to trick your enemies into letting their guard down.”  
“I did. I now have other uses for you.”  
“And you’ll never give me to the Chiaturi?”  
“I promise. You have my word. You are mine and what I claim as my own, I keep.” He’s telling the truth, your minds are intertwined and you can feel his sincerity. You don’t know whether you can trust that instinct, whether he’s tricking you even now, but you need it. You need to believe that his words are true. You concentrate on the rhythm of his heart and you can feel his approval like a warm balm in your mind. 

It takes a lifetime for you to calm down enough for your heartbeats to match. But eventually it happens and he moves out of your thoughts and lets your body go.  
“It took fifteen minutes.” You hear him say as you sag in relief but keep your feet. You allow yourself a couple of deep breaths. You rub at your face just for the sensation of being in the physical world again.  
“Just fifteen minutes.” He repeats, his voice approving. “You’re a natural at this.”  
“It felt longer.” You mumble.  
“The mind is timeless.”  
You open your eyes and look at him.  
“Thank you.”  
“There’s no need. I helped you out of my own self-interest.” He sneers at you. “Don’t think I’m getting soft or that I like you. Now come on, let’s get you clean before you have another seizure. I don’t have time to waste helping you again.”  
You nod and indicate that you are ready to leave.  
He turns sharply and walks forward without another word. You pull your backpack on and trail silently after him and out of the door.


	7. Establishing Trust Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You need to work out more. Your physical condition is embarrassing. I expect you to use this gym for half an hour, once a day. I’ll increase the workout as your stamina improves.”  
> “Why do you need me to do that? Surely you can get other people, stronger people to do your heavy lifting.” You expect the pain but it doesn’t come, he just shakes his head in disapproval.  
> “It will raise your overall muscle tone, making you fitter and more able to serve me. It will improve your heart, help you with breathing control and have a high probability of lengthening your life span.” His eyes darken and he looks over your body again speculatively. “And it will make you more physically attractive.” You open and close your mouth in utter horror and you take a few steps back from him.  
> He can’t seriously mean…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn it I'm never going to get any of my other fan fics done. But over 3,000 words in less than 24 hours, not doing too badly. :)
> 
> Another chapter of Loki at his nasty and manipulative best. 
> 
> *Trigger warnings for the chapter*: As the summary suggests there are threats of rape in this chapter.

*

The corridor outside the hanger bay is carpeted and goes off in either direction. He turns to the left and leads you to an elevator. The walls are a fake marble relief on the bottom half and mirrored along the top. The carpet looks like the expensive stuff for high retail offices. The pile is thick enough that it completely hides the sound of your tread.  
“Call the lift.”  
“Oh, right. You can’t touch anything.” You press the button for him. He looks down in disapproval.  
“You’re still carrying that dirty bag around?”  
“Everything I own is in this bag.” You protest.  
“Everything you own belongs to me.” The God-King says and you shrug.  
“You said I could have the cans of fruit. So I’m keeping them.”  
“I suppose it’s a small ask.” The God-King sighs. “I can allow it.”  
“Thank you.” You look to him and deliberately nod in gratitude. He snorts in amusement.  
“Next time I’ll make you kiss my ass, you need the practice.” He says. You wrinkle your nose.  
“I’d rather not.”  
He laughs, a real one, not a nasty one. You like to hear him laugh like that – like he’s genuinely pleased with you.  
“I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.” He says as the lift reaches your floor and you both walk in.

You walk into the centre and then stop dead. The mirrors reflect only you and you look around wildly to see your god casually walking in behind you.  
“What’s the matter?” He asks and then looks at the mirrors. “Oh. That.” He clicks his fingers and suddenly he’s there, beside you in the reflection. “Just an oversight on my part.”  
“How do you do that?” You ask and say before he can answer. “Magic, right?”  
“Correct. But if you must know I just made this form a little denser to the light passing through it.”  
“Really?”  
“No. But it sounds good, doesn’t it?” He grins at you in delight of his own obtuseness.  
“It’s really unfair, making me feel like an idiot.” You complain. “I mean I haven’t even finished high school yet.”  
“Any schooling you’ve had up until now is irrelevant.” He says.  
“I dunno. Learning how to talk, read and count is pretty important.” You accept the pain as the price for saying what you wanted. It’s just a warning shot, it makes you wince and touch your forehead but it doesn’t bring you to the floor.  
“Twentieth floor and less of the sarcasm.” The God-King snaps.  
“Wow, this building’s tall.” You say as you look at the large panel in the wall. It goes up eighty floors.  
“Twentieth floor.”  
“Sure.” You press the button and go back to his side. 

“So where are you right now?” You ask him. He looks at you like you’re stupid. “No, I know you’re here, but where are you? The real you?”  
The hologram is dressed regal-casual. He has the green and black cloak with the high collar, and a slim crown of woven gold in his hair. But underneath are black leather trousers and a dark green woollen tunic in a medieval cut. Woollen doesn’t really do it justice though, it looks fine and soft, like cashmere. It’s expensive casual wear. He’s also wearing a necklace that is a half circle of gold held with a fine chain around his neck.  
“I’m in a meeting with a dozen men claiming to be your representatives. They are trying to extort a lot of money from me so that they can rebuild the city.”  
“Like the mayor?”  
“One of them is claiming that title yes.” The God-King agrees. “They’re going to be very upset when they realise that I didn’t bring any currency with me. They seem convinced we have brought precious commodities for trade or some such.”  
“But you’re a conquering army.” You say and the God-King gives you a look of approval.  
“Quite.” He says.  
“So they want to rebuild Manhattan?”  
“Well, if you like temporary accommodation. They seem set on keeping the best parts for themselves.”  
The lift rings and you both get out. 

“So what are you going to do?”  
“What do you think I should do? I could throw them out, imprison them, kill them or give them to the Chitauri. Which do you think is most apt?”  
“But… We elected them. My dad, my dad voted for the mayor. My mum thought he was an idiot, but he won fair and square.”  
“And that means exactly what to me?” The God-King asks coldly and you cringe away from his tone.  
“You could just agree to help them rebuild.” You say reasonably.  
“No. They have no interest in that goal. They wish only to line their own pockets through the rest of their people’s misery. They’re scared, it’s true, but they also think they are clever. And I dislike them all intensely.”  
“So, wait… You are having this conversation with me, while you’re having a conversation with them?”  
“Of course.”  
“Isn’t it confusing?”  
“It certainly takes practise.”  
“How many conversations can you have at once?”  
“More than two and less than a hundred.” He grins down at you and you huff at him.  
“You can just say it’s none of my business.” You tell him.  
“Well it isn’t, is it? I’m not known for giving away trade secrets.” His hologram ruffles your hair and the static makes it stand on end for a moment before drifting back down to your scalp. “Not even to a bright and curious young human.”  
“So you like me a bit, then?” You ask.  
“Not in the slightest.” But he chuckles when he says it.

He stops in front of a door and clicks his fingers and the glass fronting just slides away to show the room beyond.  
“That’s some pretty cool magic.” You say. You wanted to ask him how he did it, but the circular repetition of the question might make him testy.  
“It nothing compared to what I can do. Just a parlour trick.”  
“But useful if you can’t touch anything.” You point out and again he gives you look of surprised approval. It seems he likes it when you think things through. You make a mental note of it, though you’re not certain what use it will be. Anything to help your survival chances.  
“Even parlour tricks can have practical applications.” He agrees.

He gestures you into the room and you find yourself in the middle of a gym. There are machines everywhere, all standing idle. The flat screen televisions on the wall, normally blaring some music channel or other, are eerily silent. The lights aren’t on, but sunlight streams through the windows. It must be near to or just after midday because it’s so bright. The sky outside is a shining blue, you’re looking away from the void and you can’t see the ships. That at least, is comforting. The gym is a large space and the machines block most of the view but you can tell that you’re still in the city, that he hasn’t lied to you. But with the total building redecoration outside, you would need a few minutes to work out where you were and you don’t have the time. Instead you see the sign pointing to the shower block and you head in that direction. 

The showers were once nice corporate affairs, individual cubicles with lockable doors and soft overhead lighting. The cubicles have all been torn out and piled by the door for removal and the lighting has been smashed and replaced with harsh caged bulbs screwed into the walls on either side of the room. On a shelf as you walk in is a pile of cheap, scratchy towels and a bowl of small bars of hotel-type soap.  
“Go on, get clean.” The God-King gestures and you help yourself to the free items, one of each and dump the bag underneath, out of the way. You walk to one of the showers and push the pad to start the water. You expect it to be freezing cold, but it’s pleasantly warm. You grab your t-shirt to take it off and turn to your god.  
“A little privacy?” You ask. He just continues to smile and you sigh. “You’re not going to leave are you?”  
“No.”  
“Why not?”  
“Do you really want to get into this? I’ll just win and you’ll just be in more pain than when you started.”  
“It’s not like I can go anywhere…” You know you sound whiny, but you’re not asking for much. The pain slams into your head like an ice pick and you stagger against the tiled wall.  
“Stop.” You raise your hand defensively and the pain goes away. “I’m doing it, I’m doing it.”

You shuck off your t-shirt and kick off your shoes. You shiver as you take off your jeans. You’re standing in your underwear and it takes another small nudge of pain to force you to go all the way. He watches you wash, his face impassive. It’s just another way of showing his control over you. Letting you know how helpless you are. The soap’s crap, it barely bubbles at all and you’re afraid he’s just going to bring on the pain while your head’s under the shower to watch you slip and fall for his amusement.  
“Do you have any shampoo?” You ask after wetting your hair.  
“Use the soap for now. You can earn it later.”  
“Earn it?” You look at him and he just looks back with that same impassive expression. “But it’ll make my scalp all dry. You’re not supposed to use soap for your hair.”  
He raises an eyebrow to indicate how little he cares.  
“Fine.” You rub the crappy soap into your scalp and start to wash the dirt and the dust out.

It’s only after you finish and you’re towelling yourself dry when you realise that you don’t have any clean clothes. You pull the towel around you for modesty.  
“No. Let it drop.”  
“Oh. Come on.” You complain, half-begging him to stop.  
“Do as you’re told.”  
You let the towel drop at your feet. He circles you then, his hands behind his back, inspecting you intimately. You try to turn, but he gives you another nudge of pain that makes you stand still.  
“You need to work out more. Your physical condition is embarrassing. I expect you to use this gym for half an hour, once a day. I’ll increase the workout as your stamina improves.”  
“Why do you need me to do that? Surely you can get other people, stronger people to do your heavy lifting.” You expect the pain but it doesn’t come, he just shakes his head in disapproval.  
“It will raise your overall muscle tone, making you fitter and more able to serve me. It will improve your heart, help you with breathing control and have a high probability of lengthening your life span.” His eyes darken and he looks over your body again speculatively. “And it will make you more physically attractive.” You open and close your mouth in utter horror and you take a few steps back from him.  
He can’t seriously mean…

“I’m underage.” You stutter out and he shrugs. “And… And you said that I was barely out of the womb.”  
“All humans seem that way to me.” The God-King closes the distance and you almost slip on the tiles trying to back away. “Stop running.”  
“No.” You say and he chuckles. Then he’s behind you as well, and off to your right. You skid and back towards the wall with the holograms closing in. You could run through them, but you know he’d punish that and the punishment could be three times as worse than normal. You don’t know how this works yet, how his magic works and you don’t want to find out how bad it could get.  
“Stop. Please stop. You’ve won. I won’t run anymore.” You raise your hands in defeat.  
“On your knees. Show me how sorry you are.”  
You nod and get on the floor.  
“Tell me how sorry you are.”  
“I’m very, very… Extremely sorry.” You stutter out and the holograms kneel around you. You can feel their ghost hands on your shoulders, around your head, on your stomach and your back. There’s no inappropriate touching yet, but you cringe back.  
“Please don’t do this.” You beg him.  
“Some humans would plead with me to continue.” His voice is mocking.  
“Not me.”  
“Not ever?”  
“No.” 

The two holograms on either side disappear and only the front one, with its hands on your shoulders remains.  
“Do you find me unattractive?” He asks and you wonder if you hear a plaintive edge to his tone.  
“I’m not ready. I mean other people my age, at school, they used to boast that they’d, y’know...”  
“Yes?”  
“But I never wanted to.” You look up at him, your eyes desperate. “Please… Please don’t make me.”  
He looks down at your chest and you know he’s listening to your heart, assessing your level of panic.  
“Very well.” He says and he stands up.  
“That’s it?”  
“That’s it, for now.” He shrugs. “I have my pick of eligible bed mates. If it brings you so much distress it is not, at the moment, worth my while to pursue you.”  
“And… And you have other uses for me?” It’s almost a question you don’t want him to answer.  
“Yes. Don’t get me wrong, it would be a pleasant distraction.” He gives you a twisted half-smile. “But if it would interfere with your present duties, then I have no need of it.”  
“Thank you.”  
“Just don’t tempt me to punish you in that way.”  
“I’ll do my best not to.” You say fervently.  
“Good. Now get up.” He looks you up and down as you stand, gestures with his hand and you’re fully clothed.

You look down to see that you’re dressed like he is. Leather trousers and a warm, dark green cashmere shirt. You can feel the tightness of the leather around your calves and the soft tickle of the wool. The black boots are heavy on your feet and you lift your legs, one after the other experimentally. You can even feel the pull of your underwear when you move.  
“It’s not real is it?” You say as you tug at the tunic. “It feels real, it’s even the right weight, but it’s not real.”  
“No. Just a better class of illusion.”  
“So I’m still naked?”  
“We’re all naked under our clothes.” The God-King says in amusement.  
“Are you wearing real clothes or did you just…” You make an approximation of his gesture.  
“I will order some, but strangely enough, there’s a dearth of available tailors and jewellery crafters in New York at the moment.”  
“So you could just click your fingers and I’d be naked again?”  
“Or I could change your outfit to suit my needs.”  
“Could I have real clothes please?” You ask, feeling uncomfortable. “They don’t have to be fancy…”  
“Maybe…” He grins instead of finishing the sentence.  
“Something else I have to earn?”  
“If that is what you want.”  
“Yes. I’d like some clothes I can actually put on and wear without having them disappear on me.”  
“I’ll add it to your good behaviour list.”  
“Okay.” It isn’t worth the argument. 

You walk back to the shower and pick up the towel. There’s a laundry bin in the far corner and you drop it in. Then you go for your clothes.  
“Leave them, they’re disgusting. I’ll have someone come and dispose of them later.”  
“But… But they’re mine…” You protest.  
“Do we have to go through what you really own again?” He snaps and you look at your feet.  
“At least… At least let me keep my shoes.”  
“Whatever for?”  
“They’re my favourite. They’re the only reason I was wearing them today. They’re comfy and I like the pattern and they’ll help me calm down when I’m scared… Familiar objects, y’know? They can, they can tie me back to my past, remind me of happier times… Give me something to focus on…”  
You look up at his amused expression.  
“Nice try.” He says and your stomach seems to drop, you’re so disappointed. He laughs at your crestfallen expression and shakes his head. “Fine, you can keep them.”  
“Thank you!” You gather them up quickly before he can change his mind and you stuff them hard into your backpack. They barely fit and they squish the bag out of shape, but you don’t want him to tell you to leave them behind because you have to carry them separately.  
“Just don’t let me see you wearing them.”  
“You won’t.” You agree happily. “I promise.” 

You head back to the lift with him and hover at the panel.  
“Eightieth.” He tells you. You press the top button.  
“Is that the medical floor?”  
“No. My own private floor. Don’t ever go any higher than eighty. I’ve already had the lift blocked off, but there’s still stair access. It’s where the Chitauri get on with their experiments. It’s a shame to lose the roof access and that wonderful view – but sometimes even I have to compromise.” He curls his lip in distaste. “But their needs mean they have plenty of medical equipment to hand, should your surgery go into complications.”  
“Surgery?” You ask alarmed.  
“You didn’t realise how badly you are injured?”  
“No, I didn’t.”  
“I’ve been keeping the pain from you. I thought it prudent. But you really do need someone to dig out the stone pieces and drain the wound on your arm.”  
“Am I… Am I going to be conscious while they do this?” You wouldn’t put it past him to torture you that way.  
“Yes and no. You won’t be aware of what’s happening. I thought I’d take you on a little trip.”  
“I don’t understand.”  
“You’ll find out soon enough.”  
That doesn't bode well. You decide to change the conversation.

“So, are you on the eightieth floor, the real you?”  
“No, my conference suite is two floors below.”  
“Okay.” You adapt your mental map of the space.  
“I’m thinking of using the fire axe.” He says thoughtfully.  
“Pardon?”  
“The fire axe I used to kill Banner. I’m thinking of keeping it as a symbolic tool of execution.”  
“Okay?” You don’t quite know where this is going.  
“I’m going to behead those idiots I’m talking to with it. Then I’m going to give the bodies to the Chitauri. I’m going to preserve the heads and put them on spikes around my throne room.”  
“You have a throne room…?” You ask and he furrows his brow as he looks at you.  
“Of course you do. You’re the God-King Loki. You deserve a throne room.” You’re impressed with yourself that you don’t say it too quickly. That would sound like back-pedaling and you don’t want him to think that’s what you’re doing – even though it’s the truth. Instead you make it sound like praise. 

He smiles and preens at your words. You make a note to massage his ego more often.  
“Seventy ninth floor?” You ask as a wild guess.  
“The whole floor. The walls have been knocked through and I’ve had pillars placed at intervals. You have to walk half the width of the building to reach the throne and bring me supplications.”  
“Sounds impressive. And a little intimidating.”  
“That’s the point.”  
“And with severed heads it’s practically medieval. People would know exactly where they stood with you.” You hope you don’t sound too sarcastic, but he’s too pleased with himself to notice.  
“Then you think it’s a good idea?” Something in his voice makes you pause.  
“You’ve already done it haven’t you?” You ask suspiciously.  
“While we were talking about it.” Loki smiles smugly. “Your mayor can run very quickly for such a large man.”  
“But not quickly enough?”  
“No.” He thinks for a moment. “Would you like to see my handy work?”  
“I can picture it pretty well. And you can do more than just clothing illusions, right?”  
“Of course.”  
“Then you can show me once I’ve been seen to by the doctor and I’m all better.”  
“I suppose I do need you well, more than I need your approval.” The God-King agrees. “And it’ll be fun watching the slaves clean it up.”  
You mask your shiver of disgust as best as you can.  
The lift pings as it reaches the eightieth floor. You find it hard to make your legs work. Surgery, shit, this could go badly in so many different ways. All you can do is walk out behind him and hope he’s going to be kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: For anyone who lives in New York, I am not dissing your politics or your mayor and politicians. These are fully Marvel Universe politicians - scum of the earth types along the lines of Wilson Fisk in the new Dare Devil series. Mr Murdoch might believe in using the law to deal with such people, but Loki doesn't really have that amount of patience. Or the morality, if truth be told. No offense was intended in this portrayal nor was it meant to represent anyone living or dead.
> 
> Just thought I'd make that clear.


	8. Stitches in Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is tiresome. I am your God, woman, your King and you dare to talk to me like that?”  
> “You’re nothing but a thug with a bit of power.” She snaps back. You can feel him silently laughing.  
> “Tell her, child. Tell her how wrong she is.”  
> “Please Dr Bridges.” You beg her. “Please acknowledge him. You don’t know what he will do.”  
> “Repeat after me.” He says in a voice filled with authority. “I acknowledge that Loki, Prince of Asgard is the rightful King of Earth and all her domains. I acknowledge that he is my god and I shall worship him for the rest of my days. I acknowledge his superiority over me and the rights he has to all that I own and all that I am.”  
> You start to repeat it but Dr Bridges glares at him.  
> “I am never going to say that.” She tells him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmmmm...
> 
> I didn't know what to put in the Summary for this one, there's a lot going on, but this paragraph was the most self contained. The Chapter title was difficult as well, I hope it fits properly.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, while I go and close my eyes for a few hours... Eight thousand words in two days... I've never been this prolific, I think it might be a sign. :)
> 
> Theres' a bit of sex in here and a bit of torture, I think you know the drill by now... Nothing too extreme for trigger warnings... Though feel free to scream "Liar!" at the screen while Loki gives his version of events of Thor and before the Avengers. I really enjoyed writing that part. :p
> 
> Thanks for sticking by me and thanks for all the Kudos. Next chapter will be up soon.

*

The medical area turns out to be a section of the main lounge. It’s boxed in with plastic sheeting and inside you can see the outline of a metal table and a wheeled tray that’s high enough for someone standing to comfortably reach.  
“You’ve got to be kidding.” You say, stopping dead and with half a mind to refuse to go any further.  
“It’s perfectly safe, everything has been sterilised.” Your god tells you in a reasonable tone of voice.  
“Perfectly safe? It looks like something out of Dexter!”  
“Yeah, sorry about the slap dash approach, but in this whole building the best I could find was a first aid station. So I had to improvise a little with what I’d brought with me and what was lying around.” You turn at the female voice and see a woman in medical scrubs walking into the room. “It isn’t ideal, but it’s better than what most people are getting in the city right now.”  
“Let me introduce Dr Bethany Bridges. She’s one of the few top emergency surgeons still alive in New York.” The God-King smiles and gives her a look that holds more than professional interest. She ignores his wandering eyes and focuses on you.

She’s pretty, mid-thirties with short cropped, dark-brown hair and serious hazel eyes. Her body language is defensive and as the God-King casually circles her you see her eyes narrow slightly.  
“Seen enough?” She snaps without turning around.  
“For now.” The God-King says.  
He walks off to the side and then flickers out of existence.  
“Asshole.” Dr Bridges mutters. “So, what’s he done to you?”  
“Nothing. Well, nothing that needs medical attention. I got my injuries during the fighting.”  
“Well then, let’s see.” She says all business and you hesitate. “Don’t worry, you’re safe with me. I just need to assess your injuries.” You nod and with some reluctance you drop your backpack and take off your tunic. She kneels down and the first thing she goes for is your arm.  
“Ouch.” She says.  
“I fell while I running.” You say in explanation.  
“No shit.” She moves your forearm this way and that, getting a better look at it. You hiss in pain as she touches the red, inflamed injury with gentle fingers.  
“This is badly infected. You’re lucky you got here in time. If it didn’t get into your bloodstream, the tissue’d have started to die soon.”  
“That’s sounds bad.”  
“That is bad. But we can sort it. What else?”

You start to show her your wounds, the small healing scabs all over your body where the masonry punched into your skin. You take off your trousers to show her your legs.  
“Some of these are showing infection as well. Most of them still have the foreign bodies inside them. They’ll have to be reopened so we can remove them.”  
“But you can do that?”  
“I can do that. They haven’t hit anything vital. They can’t have. You’d be dead by now if that was the case.”  
“That’s supposed to be comforting, right?” You ask and she smiles.  
“Sorry. I don’t normally have to deal with the customer facing part of the job. Most of my patients are already asleep when I see them…” She pauses when she realises that you’re looking over her shoulder. 

The God-King Loki walks into his lounge, holding a fire axe and covered in blood.  
“Don’t worry.” He says when he sees Dr Bridges expression. “None of this is mine.”  
“Huh.” She raises an eyebrow. “Anyone else I should be seeing first?”  
“Not unless you can sew heads back on.” His grin is macabre. He looks over at you.  
“How’s the diagnosis going?” He asks her.  
“Almost done.”  
“Good. I’ll clean up and then I’ll join you.” He walks off in the direction of the bathroom. 

“He’s going to be there during my operation?” You ask once the door is closed and you’ve heard the shower running for a few minutes. Dr Bridges sighs in regret.  
“Well, I need an assistant and he wouldn’t let anyone else in here. Anyway, we need the staff where they are. There are a lot of injured people dying in the streets right now.”  
“You don’t want to be here, do you?” You say it quietly and she sighs.  
“No, this isn’t your fault and you need my help. You’re in as much need as anyone else right now – your injuries are potentially life threatening. It’s not like he’s called me in because you’ve stubbed your toe.” She smiles sardonically. “But he wasn’t polite getting me here. And it’s obvious he chose me because he’s attracted to me. I’m not the only surgeon in New York, no matter what he says. Most of them, however, are white, middle-aged men. He walked past five of them to get to me.”

“Are you scared?” You ask and she looks at you with hard eyes.  
“No.” She shakes her head. “If I have to play his game to get the supplies I need, I’ll do it.”  
“Whatever it takes?”  
“Whatever it takes to save lives.”  
“I’m scared.” You whisper it, terrified he might hear. Her expression softens and she puts her hand on your shoulder.  
“Don’t worry. I’ve done this kind of procedure a hundred times, you’ll get through this.”  
“I know.” You say. “It’s what happens next that scares me.”  
She strokes your fringe and looks at you sadly.  
“There’s nothing I can do.” She says and you nod.  
“I know. I just had to tell someone. You mind giving me a hug?”  
She stands and you curl up against her and rest your head against her side while her arms come around your shoulders and waist. For a minute you close your eyes and imagine that you’re safe at home. Then you sigh and pull away, you don’t want the God-King to see this.  
“Thank you.” You say.  
“No problem.” 

“Are you ready?” The God-King asks and you turn guiltily. But he’s only just walking out of the bathroom. He didn’t see your moment of weakness.  
“Yes, we’re both ready to proceed.” Dr Bridges tells him primly. He winks at her and looks down at you.  
“Well? What are you waiting for? Fold your clothes and get on the operating table.”  
You gather your clothes, fold them at the entrance to the plastic wrapped space and then push your way through. You glance at the tray and feel a little unsure about the lack of tools. There seems to be a few laid out, a scalpel and so on, but not as many as you’d like and the only antiseptic appears to be a bottle of iodine, some unopened gauze pads and a sterilized medical needle with thread.  
“Ummmm…” You say as the other two push their way through the sheeting. “Where’s the anaesthetic?”  
“You won’t need any.” The God-King tells you.  
“I think, um, I think I might…?” You venture nervously.  
“You won’t.” He says in a voice that brooks absolutely no argument. “Now get on the table.”  
You do as you’re told.  
“On my front or on my back?” You ask.  
“Lie back for now. We’ll turn you when we need to.” Dr Bridges tells you.  
“Okay.” 

You start shivering as they start to argue about procedure. Dr Bridges puts on a face mask and insists that the God-King puts one on as well. She gets pissy when he conjures one from mid-air.  
“You do understand how many bacteria are in your mouth and how many you breathe out into the atmosphere?” She demands. “When we start cutting, we can’t expose the patient to any of them.”  
“I assure you that anything I have in my mouth is not transferable to your people.”  
“No. You want me to do this, we follow procedure.” She hands him a mask in a sealed packet. “Get rid of whatever that is…” She gestures angrily at the illusion. “And put this on.”  
He glares at her, makes his mask disappear and puts on the real one.  
“And it also protects you from the patient.” She admonishes him. “You don’t want to get any infected pus into your mouth, for example.”  
“I suppose.” He admits, sullenly. 

He walks up the head of table and looks down at you. He slaps your cheek as a way to vent some of his anger. It stings but it doesn’t hurt too much. It’s more for the surprise of the pain than wanting to harm you.  
“Pay attention.” He commands and you look up at him wide eyed. He looks down at your body.  
“Why are you shivering, are you cold?”  
“Just nerves, I guess.”  
“I see.” And suddenly you’re not shivering anymore.  
“Better?” He asks.  
“Yes.”  
“Now, don’t be afraid. I’m not going to let you die. You will wake up from this whole episode on the mend from your injuries.”  
“Thank you, that makes me feel better.”  
“Liar.” But his voice is soft and he smiles. “You really do have to work on it.”  
“I’m sorry.”  
“No need.” 

“I’m ready to begin.” Dr Bridges calls out and the God-King reaches over to the tray and passes her the scalpel.  
“Please.” You whisper urgently. “Please, please, please knock me out now.”  
“I’m going to go one better than that.” He tells you.  
He reaches forward and stretches his hand over your forehead. You can feel his forefinger on one temple and his thumb on the other. He puts his head next to yours so his mouth’s right by your ear.  
When he starts to speak, the words don’t make any sense but they have some weird cadence which does strange things to your perceptions. Your head begins to spin and you close your eyes against the sensation. Your hearing begins to lose focus and the words move in and out as if one minute the God-King is next to you and then he’s across the room. You taste strange, shifting flavours in your mouth, all metallic and horrible. The hairs on your skin start standing on end and you feel motion sickness as if you’re travelling at high speed while lying perfectly still.  
“Stop.” You cry out as the world seems to fall away. You just can’t endure it anymore.

…

…

“Stop!”

The sky is black and sprinkled with stars. You’re standing straight and looking up at them. You’re a city kid, but you remember the trips to the country where the sky was crammed with specks of light. This sky has even more than you remember. You turn in wonder and you feel the warm animal skin cloak move with you. Your boots tread on something hard and unyielding. You look down in wonder at the sparkling, multi-coloured shifting lights under your feet. Your trousers are black wool and your shirt is a light green tunic. Your boots are lined with lamb skin and you have several woven leather bracelets on each arm. You reach up to your head and you feel the circlet of flowers in your hair. 

“They mean you’re still a child.” The God-King says softly and you turn to him. He’s sat on a large brown horse with a gold and green bridle.  
“Where are we?”  
“This is the Rainbow Bridge. It connects the Bifrost to the mainland.” His voice is like you’ve never heard it before. Soft and patient and almost kind.  
You look down again at the strange shimmering floor. It looks like glass or plastic, but you kneel down to touch it and you find that it’s some kind of stone. You turn and look at the large dome about ten feet away. The entrance curves up above you, a gigantic, beautiful arch of bronze and carved metal runes. You spin around and look at the city so very far away.  
“The mainland?”  
“Asgard. My home.” You look at him again, suitably awed and he smiles. He reaches out a hand to you.  
“Come, let me take you there.” 

He helps you climb onto the horse and you rest against him, pressed hard against the front of the saddle. He wraps one arm protectively around you and takes up the reins in the other. The horse is well trained. It begins to canter forward and at first you grip onto the saddle for grim death. Then you get used to the motion, to the strong arm holding you gently and you begin to relax a little.  
“Are you ready?” He asks.  
“Yes.” You say, excited and frightened and awestruck all at once and he laughs. He digs in his heels, gives the command and the horse surges forward into a gallop.

And you find that you’re laughing and he’s laughing with you. That warm real, true laugh of a man totally happy and at peace with himself. Somehow you know you’re safe here, that while you are in Asgard, he will not hurt you. His grasp is careful and light, but strong – he will not let you fall, no matter how fast the horse moves. You’ve never been on a horse before, you never realised it how it could make you feel so free.  
“I was king here once.” He tells you. “Can you imagine being the king of this land?”  
“It must have been wonderful.” You say. Even from such a distance Asgard is inspiring, strange and beautifully alien. So much better than any human city.  
“It was. I love this land, its people. I would do anything to protect it.”  
“I believe you.” You answer and he kisses your hair in response. 

Even at full gallop it takes a long time to cross the rainbow bridge. You’re full of questions, but you don’t want to ruin the moment and instead you rest against him, allowing the peaceful silence to continue for as long as you can.  
There’s a stable at the end of the bridge and your god dismounts first and then reaches up to help you down from the large animal. A man comes out from a hut and bows low to the God-King. He takes the horse without a word and leads it off to be rested and groomed.  
“You see here, people know how to treat royalty.” The God-King tells you as you resume the rest of the journey on foot. “Humans have forgotten the natural order of things. It is why the transition is going to be so painful for you.”  
“We have freedom.” You say in counter-argument.  
“You have the illusion of freedom. You are still controlled, but those in power lie to you. Here the hierarchy is honest, you know where you stand.”  
“So long as you’re near the top.” You say and he laughs.  
“So young and yet so cynical. The taint of your world made manifest.” He makes a grand gesture with his hands. “Here the children your age will be innocent for twice your span of years, maybe even longer. Cynicism is for the adults, not for the young and the naïve.”  
“So you had a happy childhood?” You ask and he falls silent for a minute.  
“The happiest childhood you could ever wish for.” He says and ruffles your hair. 

Asgard rises like a massive mountain city with a giant, majestic building right on the pinnacle which you assume is the royal palace. There are roads everywhere and they all seem to head toward the summit. So you are more than a little surprised when your god turns early on and leads you downhill instead.  
“Aren’t we going to the palace?”  
“You don’t want to see the palace.” He tells you flatly.  
“I don’t?”  
“Not yet, maybe another day.” His smile is filled with promise and you nod. You’d like a reason to come back here.  
“So where are we going?”  
“To see some of the local culture. Asgardians of your own social class.”  
You almost tell him you don’t want to see any slaves, but you bite back the words. He’s being nice, a tour guide around his own home. You don’t want that to stop anytime soon, especially not because of your uncensored sarcasm. 

The street he takes you down is bustling with life. It seems to be market day and there are stalls of every type and colour, shouting their wares to passers-by. You look around you with wonder and then look up in surprise.  
“The sky is blue.”  
“Of course the sky is blue.” He says with condescension.  
“But on the Bifrost it was night.” You point out.  
“No, on the Bifrost it was void. You were seeing the universe, pure and unadulterated by an atmosphere.”  
“Then how did we breathe?”  
“Asgardian engineering.” The God-King tells you. “But for your lack of understanding, it may as well be magic.”  
“So magic and science are different occupations on your world?”  
“Not really, they merge together. It is what makes your world so backward. By denying magic you cut out so much possibility.”  
“Oh.” You continue looking up at the sky, much to your god’s amusement. 

“Could you teach me?” You ask and then wince. Damn your unreliable self-censor.  
“Teach you magic?” You expect scorn, but his voice is speculative.  
“Forget I said it.” You say quickly.  
“I don’t know.” Your god says. “I don’t know if humans are even capable of containing the power involved. It would take a lot of discipline and a lot of training.”  
“I didn’t mean to ask.”  
“Yes you did. You’ve been wondering about it since we met.”  
“Was it that obvious?” You flush in embarrassment.  
“It was to me.” Your god smiles. “But then maybe your fear makes you more transparent.”  
You look up at him and he stares you down. You look away again and he snorts in contempt.  
“You might have the strength for some parlour tricks.” He grips your shoulder and squeezes it in a friendly gesture. “We’ll see, once you’re well.”

*

He takes you under the awning of what seems to be just another stall. It turns out to be a large pavilion tent, filled with noise and laughter. Most of the tables are full, but when the owner sees you he quickly turfs a couple off a nearby table and cleans off their half-eaten meal. The customers start to protest, see your god standing there and instantly bow to him.  
“We did not realise it was you, my Prince.” The man says, his eyes on the floor. Your god turns to the owner.  
“I will pay for their meal, in recompense for their inconvenience.”  
“Thank you, Lord.” The woman whispers. The God-King smiles.  
“You may leave.” He says. They don’t rush, or run, but bow slightly lower in respect. They walk out of the pavilion, still hand in hand, laughing, joking and obviously in love.  
“You see how easy it is?” He asks you. “How easy it is to submit?”  
The owner pulls the chair out for the God-King and he sits down with a regal grace. A waitress does the same for you.  
“Thank you.” You say and she looks at you in confusion.  
“Royalty does not bother with such small pleasantries.” Your god tells you. “She might have even been offended if she understood what you said.”  
“But I can understand…”  
“I’m translating for you.”  
“You can do that?”  
“Your mind is a very simple construct. It isn’t difficult.” 

He turns to the owner and completely ignores you. When he begins to speak you can’t understand him at all. It sounds Scandinavian, though you’re guessing even someone from the region would struggle with this dialect. The owner answers and the waitress starts writing on a pad she takes from her belt. The familiarity of her gesture is comforting at least, some things seem to be constant, no matter where you go. The conversation drags on and you begin to fidget. You pick up the knife and fork and start to inspect them. The handles are wood, roughly planed and varnished with just the prongs of the fork and the blade of the knife made of metal. Your god glances at you and purses his lips in disapproval and you put the cutlery down. Instead you look around taking in the sheer, vibrant, raucous nature of the place. This is not the place for royalty. The ground is strewn with sawdust and straw and the tables and seats are all different shapes and sizes. On the table next to you ten men are sitting on benches and are engaged in a very noisy and convoluted drinking game. They are banging on the table with their fists and singing a song that seems to have far too many verses. When someone misses the beat, they have to down their tankard to the shouts of approval from rest of the group. You watch in fascination.

“One of my brother’s favourite drinking games as well.” Your god tells you and you turn back to him. The owner and the waitress have already gone.  
“You have a brother?” You glance at the drinking game again. You can’t imagine the God-King getting involved. “You must be very different from each other.”  
“We are.” He nods.  
“I’m an only child.” You tell him. “I always wanted a brother or sister.”  
“Be glad you didn’t. You wouldn’t have seen eye to eye, trust me.”  
“So this is more a place he would come to?”  
“Thor? Here?” He laughs. “He would never come and rub shoulders with such commoners.”  
“Then why are you here?”  
“I like it here. When you have a sibling one of the first thing you learn is where to go so they cannot always find you.” He sits back and looks around. “And the food and service is excellent.”  
“And you can always guarantee a table.”  
“Precisely.” The God-King smiles, smug and indulgent. 

The wine comes a few minutes later. The waitress pours a little into a glass and gives it to him to taste. He lifts it, checks the colour, sips it and then nods. She fills the glass and leaves it in the centre of the table. You’re given a tumbler and a pitcher of water.  
“Not even a soda?” You ask.  
“You’re a child. Children drink water.”  
“Huh.” But you pour yourself a glass.  
“So, what did you order?” You ask him.  
“I decided to stick with a meal you might be familiar with. A rabbit and boar broth to start, with a venison steak and vegetables to follow and a small selection of cheeses to round everything off.”  
“No ice cream?” You ask.  
“Ice cream?”  
“When we get back to Earth, ask for some. You’ll like it.”  
“I think I might do that.” 

“So, you say you were King here. But that man called you ‘Prince’ and the woman called you ‘Lord’.” You say after taking a few mouthfuls of water. You’re still very thirsty.  
“This a construct of my memories. When I became King it wasn’t proper to come here anymore.” He lounges and looks around as he speaks as if the conversation bores him.  
“So you were the rightful heir?”  
“Yes. My brother is older, but he was exiled and so I gained the throne.”  
“He was exiled?”  
“For starting a war.”  
You pause to think about that.  
“So where is he now?” You ask.  
“On Earth, fighting on the wrong side.”  
“I didn’t see him.”  
“You saw the storms?” He gestures upwards as he speaks.  
“Yes.”  
“Those were his doing.”  
“Oh. I thought that was the portal.”  
“No, he can call up the lightening.”  
“Wow. So he can do magic too?” You ask excitedly.  
“Hardly, he uses magical armour and weapons, but he didn’t make any of them.” Your god’s scorn is apparent.  
“So he started the war on Earth?”  
“No, this is just an extension of the battle he started.”

The appetiser arrives. It’s a big sharing bowl of broth, but there are no spoons. A large tray of black bread is put beside the bowl and you watch as your god takes one of the hollowed out crusts and uses it to scoop up the broth. You hesitantly take one of the heels of bread and copy him. It’s hot and you almost burn your mouth with the first bite, something that doesn’t seem to impede your god at all. You blow on the liquid to cool it and fish out a chunk of boar from the bread. You expect it to taste like pork, but it has a strong flavour all of its own.  
“Don’t use your fingers.” He chides you.  
“Sorry.” You wait for the broth to cool some more.  
“So, why Earth? Why did the war spill over to my planet?” You ask.  
“Because of the Tesseract.”  
“What’s that?” You take a sip of water and try to eat the broth again. It’s reached a tolerable warmth and you find it extremely tasty, though nothing like you’d expected.  
“An alien power source of unimaginable potential.”  
“Okay.” You nod in happy ignorance. It sounds like something you do not want to mess with. You couldn’t even make a circuit in science without giving yourself a shock from the battery. This sounds way more technical. “So this is an energy war?”  
“Explain your question a little more.”  
“Well, we’re always fighting for energy on Earth. Fossil fuels, oil and stuff.”  
“I see and you think that’s the reason for the war?” He finishes his first piece of bread and starts on a second.  
“Well, it’s possible.”  
“It is, but it is not the reason.” You wait for him to continue, but he takes a drink of his wine and continues eating. You frown and sigh.

“So what is the reason?” You ask and he looks up at you.  
“Politics.” He says and then goes back to eating.  
“Could you be a little more vague?” You ask and he grins at you.  
“You really want to know?” He asks. “It’s a heavy conversation for the dinner table. We could talk about Asgard instead, there are many wonderful places here I could tell you about.”  
“I appreciate your offer, I really do. But I would like to know why you attacked my planet.”  
“Very well.” He takes a deep breath. “When my brother started his war, he made Asgard appear unstable. For centuries we had been the main peace keeping force in the Nine Realms...”  
“Like the UN or Nato?” You ask.  
“Don’t interrupt.” He chides you.  
“Sorry.”  
“With my father out of the picture and my brother exiled it fell to me to prove that Asgard was still a force to be feared and respected. But there was a problem with that. Asgard had been at peace for so long that many were reluctant to fight what would become a protracted war. When my father was young, things were different and he was able to muster a mighty army when the need arose. He fought on your world over a thousand years ago and forced the alien army to retreat. I, however, could not fall on that recourse. I had to find another way to stop Asgard from descending into chaos.”  
“So what did you do?”  
“I allowed some of the opposing force, the Jotun, to come to Asgard – including their king. I was expecting peace talks, but they betrayed me and tried to kill my father while he was ill in his bed.”  
“That’s awful.”  
“Luckily my mother is not weak, she held them off and I was forewarned in time to intervene. The only way to save my father was to kill them all.”  
“You killed their King?”  
“Unfortunately, yes.” He reaches for his third piece of bread. 

“Are you not hungry?” He asks.  
“I think I just eat slower than you do.” You look at your half eaten piece of bread.  
“You should bulk up, you’re nothing but skin and bones.” He sounds like your dad and you roll your eyes.  
“You should talk.” You reply.  
“Hah!” He laughs. “I suppose you’re right. Mother always used to tell me off for not eating enough.”  
“I am hungry and I’m really enjoying the meal.”  
“I’m glad to hear it.”  
“So… Broken down peace talks.”

“Ah. Yes.” He scoops up the remains of the broth and wipes the bread around the bowl for the rest.  
“So, their King is dead. The Jotun are up in arms and at that precise moment my brother decides to try and break his terms of exile.”  
“How?”  
“The Warriors Three and a female warrior called Sif. They were my brother’s companions in battle and at play. My ascension to the throne annoyed them and so they went to Midgard to try and talk my brother into coming back to Asgard.”  
“Sorry for interrupting again. But where’s Midgard?” You wonder if it’s close by in galactic terms. Maybe you’ve seen the star in science class.  
“Midgard is your home planet. Earth”  
“Oh. So wait, he was exiled to Earth? With all his magic armour and weapons and stuff? Wasn’t that a little crazy?”  
“Oh, his armour was stripped from him and his weapon was thrown after him. He could only break his term of exile if he could lift it again.”  
“That sounds mad.” You say in disbelief.  
“Not just anyone can lift the hammer of Thor. Only someone judged as worthy.”  
“By who’s judgement?”  
“My fathers.”  
“So a little biased then?”  
The God-King laughs.  
“Can you lift it?” You ask.  
“Of course.”  
“Sooo biased.” You complain to more laughter. The waitress comes and takes the bowl and the remaining bread away. She refills his glass, bows her head and then leaves the table.

“So what did he do?”  
“I couldn’t allow him to re-enter Asgard. The only thing keeping the Jotun from our doors was the terms of his exile. If the Warriors Three brought him back, then it would be a full scale war. Not only that, but he would still only have the powers of a mortal and would make Asgard seem weaker than ever. When father fell ill, I visited my brother and told him he had already died.”  
“That’s cruel.”  
“Why? I wanted Thor to move on with his life. And father’s illness was most likely terminal, even if he did recover I would still remain on the throne. It would have been hard for my brother to learn this news second hand. So I decided to allow him to mourn and accept the handover of power. Thor was mortal, child. Like you. He had less than a hundred years to live and my father’s illness could last much longer than that.”  
“So you thought you were doing him a kindness.”  
“Precisely. My brother had already found a mortal woman to love and I wanted him to be happy. Not spend his life looking over his shoulder at what might have been.”  
He looks down into his wine, pensively. 

“But the Warriors Three could change all that?”  
“They told him that father wasn’t dead. From that white lie they made a case I was going to lead Asgard into ruin. So I had to make the hardest decision of my life.”  
He sighs and take a large swallow of wine.  
“I decided I had to kill him.”  
You gape in shock.  
“Your own brother?”  
“I loved my brother.” He shouts and you pull away in fear. He sees your reaction and shakes his head. He raises his hand in apology and continues to talk in a quieter tone. “I loved him so much, but I loved my people more. To save Asgard, to save the Nine Realms from another war… I had to remove him.”  
“And then what happened?”  
“He tried to die nobly, defending the woman he loved. I had no interest in his mortal partner, I would have left her be. But Thor thought the worst of me, poisoned against me by his friends. He stood in the street and allowed me to execute him and as he lay dying his hammer decided he had proved himself worthy.”  
“Wow.”  
“It brought him back, healed him completely and gave him his armour as well.”

You pause as the waitress brings you the main course. Each of you is given an oval wooden platter, both of which nearly cover the table. The venison steaks are huge and hang over the edges of the plate. There are also far more vegetables than you can possibly manage. Your god watches you with amusement as you move things around with your knife and fork and then cut a sliver off the meat to try it.  
“Too much?”  
“I’ll manage.” You say gamely and he nods. The meat is still a little bloody, but tastes divine. “This is really good.”  
“So. My brother has his powers back and is allowed to return from exile. But he has no idea of the political ramifications. If you think it was just about us and the Jotun now, you are sorely mistaken. Other realms had started to take an interest and were vying for position. There were flash wars going off everywhere. Like children thinking their parents occupied, they took advantage. Everything was starting to unravel. The only thing I could do, the only thing, was to make a grand show of power. If my father was still around, they would quieten down, but they had no respect for me or my brother. In your terms we’re ancient, in theirs we’re just upstart princes, playing at royalty. The galaxy is a cold and dark place, most of the stronger races are powerful and unforgiving.”  
You shiver and cut another piece of venison.  
“So I focused the Bifrost on Jotunheim, turned it on and kept it running.”  
“What does that do?”  
“If I had kept it going, it would have destroyed Jotunheim completely, but that was not my intention. I only wished to frighten the Realms into complying with my wishes. To bring them back to heel before they burned whole worlds in their folly. I planned to destroy a single landmass, a few million – to save untold billions of billions of lives.”  
“A few million…”  
“Pray you never end up in such a terrible position, child.” He sighs and finishes his glass. “Being a king is a heavy burden.” 

The waitress is nowhere to be seen, so you get up and take the wine bottle from the table. You put your thumb in the dent underneath and pour him a new glass one-handed.  
“My mother was a waitress. She taught me a few things.” You say in explanation.  
“So I see.” He says in appreciation.  
“I’m thinking your brother misinterpreted your intentions?” You ask as you sit back down.  
“He did. He attacked me at the Bifrost and I tried to defend myself. But he was stronger than me and had always enjoyed fighting far more than I. He defeated me and destroyed the Rainbow Bridge, cutting off the power to the Bifrost. In the explosion I was thrown into the void. I only just managed to catch the edge of the Bridge and I hung on with my fingers, begging my brother to help me…”  
He looks down at the table and goes quiet for a moment.  
“But he let me fall.” He whispers.

Your fork falls forgotten on your plate.  
“He let you fall?” You ask, incredulous.  
“He thought I was mad. He though his friends were correct. He didn’t understand my motives, he hadn’t been there, he couldn’t have known.” He looks at you with a sigh. “I told you this was heavy talk for a dinner table.”  
“No. Go on. How did you survive?”  
“The final energies of the Bifrost were still active, the portal was still there. I fell into it just as it closed around me.”  
“Like Mr Stark?”  
Your god considers.  
“Almost like Tony Stark, yes. Only there was nowhere for me to go. I would have died, been destroyed by the energies around me if it had not been for the Chitauri. Their leader is a powerful sorcerer and he pulled me out of the void. His master is stronger still and is no friend of my brother. He taught me how to use the Tesseract and how to harness its energies. He showed me magic even I had never aspired to. He planned to destroy this world and to take the Tesseract for himself. The humans had it and were tinkering with it – but they had no idea what it was they had found.”  
“So you agreed to help him?” You ask, your voice has almost no expression at all and your god looks at you with pity.

“I agreed to help him regain the Tesseract, not to destroy Midgard. Instead I offered my services in return for ruling your world. I have a liking for your people and my brother loves you all dearly. I agreed so they would spare you.” He picks up your fork and offers it to you. You look down at it in surprise. You take it from his hand and nibble at the venison on the prongs. But you don’t feel very hungry anymore.  
“I hoped my actions would heal the rift between myself and my brother, but it only cut things deeper. He is convinced that I am on some sort of vengeance trip. That I chose Earth simply because he came here first. Like I am some sort of stupid puppy rolling around in his shadow.”  
“So, once they have the Tesseract, the Chitauri will leave?”  
“It is not as simple as that. The Chitauri are a lost race, they have no planet to return to. They will settle on the Earth and make a small amount of it their own. Their masters will use the Tesseract to power their destroyed Realm and perhaps remake what is lost, but they are not leaving any time soon.”  
“And now they are repurposing children.”  
“Now they are trying to understand humanity. Their ways may seem barbaric to you or I, but they have been without civilisation for centuries. If I was not there, it would be far worse for your people.”  
“So you want me to thank you?”  
“So I want you to understand what is going on in your backward little world.”

“Do you work for the Chitauri, or do they work for you?” You demand.  
“We both have different tasks to achieve on this planet.” He says and you know evasion when you hear it. You remember the conversation about other gods and the fear on his face when he talked of them.  
“You don’t have any power over them at all do you?” You ask with horror and he blinks.  
“I have enough. They aren’t really interested in you and they trust my strategies.” He tells you.  
“So you have influence over them?”  
“Yes.”  
You put the fork down.  
“I don’t really feel hungry anymore.” You tell him.  
“No neither do I. Wait here while I settle the bill.”  
He stands and leaves you sitting at the table. You reach over and finish his wine. The bottle’s empty and the glass only has a mouthful left. When he returns, he doesn’t even notice. 

*

“So Thor is King of Asgard now?” You ask as you walk back through the stalls.  
“No, my father survived his illness and turned out to be in better health than either of us expected. He’s ruling Asgard again.”  
“Your people are really tough.” You say and he nods.  
“Yes, we are.” He agrees. “And father even more than most.”  
“So will this mean the realms will calm down now?”  
“For the most part. But this invasion was already well underway when I was roped into the proceedings. It could not be stopped.”  
He pauses at a stall and buys two large red fruits. The skin is tough and shiny. He breaks the first one open with his hands and offers it to you.  
“Try these, they’re my favourite.”  
You sniff it experimentally and then pull out some of the soft yellow flesh from inside. It tastes wonderful. Like a sweet apple with the texture of a banana.  
“This is nice. I can see why you like them.”  
“I remembered you like fruit. I thought I’d share.”  
“So, are we friends now?” You ask, trying to sound casual.  
“No. We will never be friends.” He pulls a whole segment out and eat it in two bites.  
“So why are you being nice to me?”  
“Because you’re going through major surgery and I felt like having someone to talk to.” He looks at you and you know the game is over by the hardness in his eyes. “I don’t need to describe what I’ll do if you tell anyone what we talked about…?”  
“No, you don’t.” You agree.  
“Good.” He nods. “Now eat what you’ve been offered.” 

The ride back to the Bifrost is made in silence. He still holds you gently to his chest as the horse gallops along, but you know the journey will be over soon. You can’t believe what he did, what his brother did. You glance back at the city. It looks so bright and peaceful, but now you know how fragile that peace can be. How easily it could be taken away. You want to bury your head in his shoulder and sob out all the fear inside, but you can’t. You can’t show him your weakness. When you reach the Bifrost he grabs you by the scruff of your collar and lowers you to the floor in a most undignified manner.  
“Are you ready?” He asks once you find your feet.  
“No.” You say and he chuckles. He starts to speak those strange words again and the world seems to spin around you. You fall to your knees, crawl until you’re flat on the ground and clinging to the rock of the Rainbow Bridge. You feel your clothes leave your body and you’re so cold and scared.  
You long for all this to stop.  
You think you know what the void really feels like…

…

…

You wake up to noise and movement and you instantly begin to panic. Dr Bridges is leaning heavily over the metal table with both of her hands. The God-King is holding her by the shoulder and the hip and is taking her from behind. You scrabble backwards and run out of table. The God-King’s hand moves from her shoulder and catches your wrist just as you are about to fall. He pauses mid-thrust as you grab his arm for dear life and he pulls you forward so you can put your legs over the table. Dr Bridges groans in askance and he begins his rhythm again. He leans forward to nip at her ear and she sighs in pleasure.  
“Go get dressed.” He mouths at you and you nod. You slip off the table and push your way out and into the lounge. 

You hurt, a lot. You look down at the large line of stitching down your right arm and the sickly yellow of the iodine applied liberally to the wound. You look bruised from all the iodine on your body, you didn’t know you had so many injuries. Pulling on your underwear is painful and you don’t know why you’re bothering. None of this is real anyway right? Can’t he just magic up another set around you? You think about it, decide that he told you to get dressed and continue despite the discomfort. They’re being really loud in the medical area. After all her lectures about hygiene it seems really weird that she agreed to sex over your body. You sit down, pull your boots on and try not to think about it as you do up the laces. 

About five minutes later they go quiet and the God-King pushes his way out of the plastic door while doing up his fly.  
“Feeling better?” He asks.  
“I guess. I mean I still really hurt…”  
“You bastard!” Dr Bridges pushes her way out of the medical area, her expression incandescent. Your god rolls his eyes and then turns to her.  
“I thought we were in your bedroom!”  
“Of course you did. It was the only way to be sure to screw you before the child awoke…”  
She slaps him hard and his face darkens. His return blow knocks her off her feet and she hits the ground dazed. He steps over her body and reaches down for her hair.  
“No. Stop!” You run towards him and catch his arm. He grabs your wrist, disengages your grasp, lifts you clear off your feet and goes to throw you across the room. You feel his fingers slacken as he’s about to release you and you scream in terror. It works, he blinks and his hand tightens around your tunic. He looks at you, holding you easily a foot off the floor as if you weigh nothing at all. You’re gasping for air, looking down at him, pleading with your eyes, too afraid to speak. He sighs, steps off Dr Bridges and puts you back on the ground. You instantly drop to your knees at his side and you feel his hand in your hair.  
“Don’t ever do that again.” He tells you and you nod quickly in agreement. Dr Bridges is getting slowly to her feet, she’s already sporting a black eye.  
“Go to your room Dr Bethany Bridges. I do not want to see you again tonight.”  
“Fuck you.” She snarls. His hand tightens in your hair and you whimper. 

“This is tiresome. I am your God, woman, your King and you dare to talk to me like that?”  
“You’re nothing but a thug with a bit of power.” She snaps back. You can feel him silently laughing.  
“Tell her, child. Tell her how wrong she is.”  
“Please Dr Bridges.” You beg her. “Please acknowledge him. You don’t know what he will do.”  
“Repeat after me.” He says in a voice filled with authority. “I acknowledge that Loki, Prince of Asgard is the rightful King of Earth and all her domains. I acknowledge that he is my god and I shall worship him for the rest of my days. I acknowledge his superiority over me and the rights he has to all that I own and all that I am.”  
You start to repeat it but Dr Bridges glares at him.  
“I am never going to say that.” She tells him.

“Really?” The God-King lets go of your hair and walks towards her. She takes a few steps backward, her hand running across the plastic and you know she’s trying to find the door and get at the scalpel. He cuts her off before she can get there.  
“I acknowledge that Loki, Prince of Asgard…” He starts again and she gives him a cold, hard stare.  
The pain in your head blooms far worse than it ever has before. You start to claw at your head, screaming. You’re vaguely aware that Dr Bridges is trying to get to you and the God-King is blocking her path.  
“Repeat it and I will stop the pain.” He tells her.  
“You’re doing this?” She demands.  
The pain gets more intense and you curl up on the floor sobbing and begging him to stop.  
“I acknowledge…”  
“This is sick!”  
“I acknowledge…”  
“I acknowledge that Loki, Prince of Asgard is the rightful king of Earth and all her domains.” You hear Dr Bridges say, her voice quick and disbelieving. You crawl on the floor with your head pressed to the carpet, trying to drive the pain out with the friction across you skin.  
“And the rest.”  
“That, that… I acknowledge that he is my god and I shall worship him for the rest of my days.”  
“And the rest.”  
“For pity’s sake, they’ll open all their stitches!”  
“I acknowledge…” He says patiently.  
“I acknowledge his superiority over me and the rights he has to all that I own and all that I am.” She hisses it in hate and the pain finally stops. You whimper on the floor, trying to breathe and sobbing helplessly.  
“You’re a monster!” She shouts at him.  
“You’re a monster, Your Majesty.” He says calmly.  
“What? I’m not going to say…” She says and his hand flexes.  
“Say it! Say it! Please just say it!” You beg her.  
“You’re a monster – Your majesty.” She spits it out.  
“Now go to your room. We’ll sort out your contract tomorrow.”  
“You’re still going to give me the medical supplies?” She asks in surprise. He moves his head to one side. “Your majesty.” She adds hurriedly.  
“You upheld your part of the bargain, so I will uphold mine.”  
“Can I check the child first?”  
“Be my guest.” 

She moves to you and the God-King undresses you with a click of his fingers. Her hands run over your skin checking the stitching.  
“Well you’re lucky. It’s all holding.” She tells you. You look up at her, bleary with pain and her face is filled with pity. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She says.  
“It’s not your fault. Go, sleep, I’ll be alright now. He doesn’t need to hurt me anymore.” You feel the tears falling on your arm and look up to see her crying.  
“Save the people dying in the streets.” You tell her. “Do whatever you have to.”  
She nods and strokes your hair.  
“Goodnight.” She says, her voice strained and she kisses you on the cheek.  
“Goodnight.” You reply.  
“Such sweetness.” The God-King gestures and you’re clothed again. “Now fuck off, my dear. Before I change my mind.”  
Dr Bridges stands and leaves the room. 

He walks up to you and you try to scrabble away.  
“Sh, sh, sh, sh, shhhhhhhh.” He says as he gathers you in his arms. “Calm now, be calm.”  
“Listen to your heartbeat?” You whisper and press your head against his chest.  
“Listen carefully.” He agrees. He puts his arm under your knees and lifts you up, carrying you to the couch. As he lays you down you catch his arm.  
“We’re never going to friends are we?” You ask and he smiles.  
“No. Not ever.”  
“And you’re always going to use me to get what you want?”  
“I’m afraid so.” He wipes your sweat soaked brow with a handkerchief. “A child in pain is a very good motivator.”  
“Will you still teach me magic?”  
“Perhaps. If you’re very good.”  
“Okay.” You say, breathing deeply. “Okay.”  
You’re aware of him tucking you in as you slowly drift away to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, I'm aware that Loki uses sexual slang and a few swear words in this chapter. It's completely deliberate, he's the kind of guy that picks up language quickly and the first thing anyone picks up is swear words and slang for sex. 
> 
> At least in my experience of language lessons. Maybe I was just hanging with the wrong crowd. :)


	9. Mind Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few large men disengage from the weight machines and walk up to you. Other people start to drift that way as well and you back up to the door to find your entrance barred by the people still in the corridor.  
> “Loki’s little pet.” One of the large men says in contempt. He spits on your shoe.  
> “Look, I don’t want this. I’m just doing what I’m told…” You say, trying to reason with him. He grabs you wrist with the mark on your palm.  
> “Open your hand.” He snarls. You do it and he lifts it for everyone to see, pulling you up to your tip toes.  
> “See!” He shouts out. “See how this creature has betrayed us. The rumours are true. Loki has a little spy in our midst.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just saying 'Hi' again. How are you all? And thanks for reading. 
> 
> Actually, finally getting towards some real plot. I mean it's been a fun ride up 'til now, right?   
> But Loki's motivations and what he's up to and how he's treating New York will be coming to light over the next few chapters. I'm almost excited. :) 
> 
> Is there a trigger warning for mind rape? Not entirely sure, but uh, yeah... Kinda happens in this chapter. It's not as icky as it sounds, honest...

*

The next few days are a blur. You know you’re ill, that something went wrong in the surgery. You drift in and out of consciousness, feverish and shivering.

Moments stick in your memory, but you’re not sure if they’re real or hallucinations.

Dr Bridges wiping your forehead with a damp cloth and making no sense as she talks to someone you can’t see…

The God-King, gripping your wrist, while he pulls the plastic off the syringe needle with his teeth. He makes soft reassuring noises as he puts it into your vein…

Hawkeye, stripping you sweat soaked clothes off and wiping you down in a bathtub, while you try and tell him that everything’s going to be alright. You’re going to save him, going to save everyone…

A hand in your hair while you shiver on the couch, gently stroking your scalp in reassurance. The God-King sits next to you reading while singing what sounds like a lullaby…

*

You awaken, suddenly and completely and sit bolt upright in bed. No, not a bed, the couch, the couch in the God-King’s lounge. You blink in confusion and wipe your brow, you’re not sweating anymore, not feverish. Were you ill or was it just one crazy, messed up dream from everything you’ve been through? Next to the couch, on a small folding table is a tray. There’s a bowl of fruit salad and a glass of orange juice. Next to each one is a small folded piece of card standing up on the table.  
“Eat me, Drink me.” You say and you smile. It’s written in the same hard-edged style as before, probably the God-King’s handwriting.  
“Someone’s been reading the classics.” You mutter as you put the tray on your lap. “Which one was it that made you bigger? I could do with being a bit taller.”  
The food barely touches the sides and just makes your stomach growl for more. You finish the juice and find that your thirst needs more than a glass. 

You’re up off the couch and searching for your backpack before you think that maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. You shouldn’t be walking around the God-King’s private rooms without supervision. The backpack isn’t here anyway, it’s been moved somewhere else. You’re heading back to the couch when there’s a small twinge of pain in your head and you stop dead in your tracks. The pain eases quickly and you’re left with an unmistakable urge to go into the kitchen. You’ve never been in the kitchen, but you know exactly where it is. You turn, look around, shrug and then head in the right direction. 

The God-King is sitting at the breakfast bar, eating cereal and reading a newspaper.  
“You’re back with us I see.” He nods in your direction.  
“Yeah, uh, Good morning, your Majesty.” You say rubbing the back of your head.  
“There’s cereal in the far left-hand cupboard, milk and fruit juice in the fridge, help yourself.”  
“Do you have coffee?”  
“Yes, but not for you. Not until you’re well.” He looks at you in consideration. “Should you even be drinking coffee? It’s not a child’s beverage.”  
“Mum and dad always let me have a cup in the morning and after school, just to give me a boost. They said it made it easier to get me to school and to do my homework afterwards.”  
“You helped in the family business?”  
“What?” You think for a second, trying to understand what he means. You figure out he might mean doing stuff for free for the family, making things to sell, or helping dad at the forge. Medieval thinking for a medieval king. “Uh… No. No one does that kind of stuff anymore, at least not in the U.S., as far as I know. It was work school sent home to do in the evening, extra study.”  
“I approve, I think I’ll keep the tradition.”  
“I thought you might…” You mutter as you make your way to the fridge. 

You feel awful, like you’ve been put through the wringer both emotionally and physically. You’re really weak and it’s hard to keep your hand steady as you pour milk onto your cornflakes.  
“Come sit by me, so I can see how you’re holding up.” He orders and you go and climb up on the stool beside him. He catches your head, moving it this way and that. He feels your forehead with the back of his hand and nods. His fingers flick down to your neck and he feels your pulse while you try not to flinch away.  
“Better, much better.” He nods and goes back to his breakfast.  
“What happened?”  
“We didn’t catch the infection in time and it spread to your blood stream. Dr Bridges did everything she could to save your life and she’s says you have a very strong constitution. Your life hung in the balance for several days, but you’re quite a fighter.” He smiles at you with a quiet pride. “It seems I chose very well, indeed.” 

You glance at your arm. The stiches are well on their way to being healed.  
“How long…?”  
“A week, so feel free to have a second portion if you’re still hungry. You need to get your strength back up.”  
“Thank you.”  
“And I’m glad I finally get my couch back.” He says. You look at him and he holds your gaze steadily.  
“I’m glad I’m still alive too.” You say and he smirks and goes back to his paper.  
“Is that today’s edition? I’d have thought paper production would have ground to a halt, giving…” You pause. “Um, the situation and all.”  
“It was and the news networks are still down. But I made getting your printing presses up and running a priority. Local news only of course, but I find that having a small amount of daily information keeps people a little bit calmer. Makes getting back to their daily routine an easier task after such upheaval.” 

“So, what did I miss?” You ask and he glances at you in annoyance. His tolerance for your questions seems to have reached its limit already. “Never mind. I’ll go and eat in the lounge.”  
“You’ll stay here and be civilised.” The God-King snaps. You nod and turn back to your breakfast.  
“I just want to make you happy.” You tell him. “You want me to be quiet, I’ll be quiet.”  
He turns back to his paper and you concentrate on eating. The awkward silence stretches out between you.  
“The humans tried another nuclear strike three days ago.” He says grudgingly. “But we already had the force-field up by then and they haven’t made another attempt since.”  
“Force-field?” You ask. Out of all the news he might have told you, you weren’t expecting that.  
“From the Tesseract. We’ve been consolidating our hold on New York City, there are five Chitauri ships in our air space now and tomorrow we make a push upwards and to the East, striking out for the coast.”  
“Wow.” That opens up so many more questions. “But what about…”  
He glares at you.  
“Sorry.” You look at the table until he finally draws his gaze from you and back to the paper. You finish your cereal and go to the cupboard for another bowl. You’re still ravenous and you pile it high.

“Maybe you should just eat out of the packet.” He comments when you come back to the table.  
“You said I could have another bowl.” You point out and he looks at you sardonically.  
“Yes, but I didn’t expect...” He sighs. “I should have expected it. No more after that.”  
“Yes, Majesty.”  
“And I expect you to start your training today.” He says, turning the page of the paper. It’s a broadsheet you realise as you watch him unfold it, turn the page and then refold it again for easy reading. You wonder if he’d even think about approving a tabloid. Then your brain registers what he’s just said.  
“The gym?” You ask.  
“Yes.”  
“But I can barely hold my spoon steady…”  
“All the more reason to get back on the horse.” He doesn’t look up from the paper. “And you’ve spent a week asleep and lying down, you could do with the exercise.”  
You go to protest, but he raises a warning finger and you back down.  
“Yes, Majesty.”  
“Very good.”  
He goes back to reading. 

You both finish breakfast at roughly the same time and he folds the paper and puts it under one arm. You want to clean your bowl in the sink but he stops you with “The servants do that” and beckons you out of the room.  
“We have servants?” You ask as he puts his arm around your shoulders and leads you across the lounge.  
“I have servants, you just benefit.” He tells you. You realise he’s steering you toward his bedroom and you dig your heels in. You might not have bothered for all the difference it makes to your forward motion. Your god’s grip is gentle, but it is immovable and unbreakable. It’s like being trapped in an enclosed space, unable to move, but not being crushed by the weight. You just have to wait for it to shift of its own accord or hope someone calls the fire brigade to get you out – because there’s nothing you can do to free yourself. 

“Hush.” He says as he feels your resistance. “What do you think I’m going to do?”  
His tone tells you he knows exactly what you think and that he considers you stupid. “I have a gift for you, nothing more.”  
“In your bedroom?”  
“It’s just a coincidence. It only arrived yesterday.” He walks through the open door and stops you in front of a full length mirror. “Wait here.”

You look at your reflection with a fascinated horror. Your face is gaunt and hollow around the cheeks and the eyes. Your wrists are thin where they stick out of your tunic. Your boots look comically big, even though they are the right size and comfortable. And your complexion is terrible, you look like you’ve only just survived the zombie apocalypse and you might still succumb.  
“Are you sure I should work out today?” You ask.  
“You don’t have to do anything too strenuous, but I want you to get used to the habit as soon as possible.” He says as he comes back with a large square jewellery box. “Here, your first piece of real clothing. 

You open it and look at the collar inside. It’s made of thick, but supple green leather about an inch across. Held with rings around its base is a curved semi-circle of gold, just like the God-King’s favourite necklace. In the centre of the collar is a gold circle with two horns curving up and out, the tips touching the leather on either side.  
“Lift up your hair.” He tells you and you do as he says. His fingers brush your neck and he leans down to kiss you softly on the side of the throat, next to your jugular, his eyes dancing with mischief at your discomfort. He reaches down and takes the collar from the box, turning it and placing it so that the curve of the gold sits over your collarbone and the hollow of your throat. He pulls it tight so the central circle rests against you larynx and the horns curve up both sides of your neck. You can feel the soft metal against your chin if you lower your head. He buckles it securely against your spine and catches your hands to lower your hair again.  
“You look beautiful.” He tells you and kisses your fingers before letting your hands go. He gestures and your outfit shimmers until you’re wearing a pair of tracksuit bottoms, a sleeveless top and a pair of white trainers.  
“Now go and have fun. I want you back up here in an hour.”  
“Yes, Majesty.” You choke out.  
This wasn’t what you meant when you said you wanted permanent clothing.

*

Everyone else hates it as well. The two servants you pass to get to the elevator both stare at you as you walk past. You might as well have a target on your neck: Favourite slave – Please punch here. The lift is already at your floor and opens instantly. You’d been hoping for a short while to wait as you don’t want to go to the gym. You stand inside for a minute, taking a deep breath and then you press for the twentieth floor. Better hostile stares than punishment.

As you walk out of the lift you realise a lot has happened in the space of a week. The corridor is filled with people getting on with their day and the ones nearest to the elevator stop to watch you get out. They start murmuring to each other and you quickly grasp that this lift is for the private use of the God-King. They get out of your path, but stand still and watch as you pass as if you’re either dangerous or contagious. The gym door is open. You walk through and into a wall of silence. Within thirty seconds everyone has stopped what they were doing and they’re looking at you.  
“Hi.” You say nervously. “I’m just here to work out.”  
A few large men disengage from the weight machines and walk up to you. Other people start to drift that way as well and you back up to the door to find your entrance barred by the people still in the corridor.  
“Loki’s little pet.” One of the large men says in contempt. He spits on your shoe.  
“Look, I don’t want this. I’m just doing what I’m told…” You say, trying to reason with him. He grabs you wrist with the mark on your palm.  
“Open your hand.” He snarls. You do it and he lifts it for everyone to see, pulling you up to your tip toes.  
“See!” He shouts out. “See how this creature has betrayed us. The rumours are true. Loki has a little spy in our midst.”  
“It’s not true.” You shout, almost crying at the injustice of it. “I did it to save them, to save the Avengers…”  
“Who?” He demands.  
“Black Widow and Hawkeye.” You tell him and he laughs.  
“She’s not been seen since the day New York fell and Hawkeye? You side with that traitor and murderer?” There’s an undercurrent of angry muttering.  
“That’s not him. It’s the sceptre. Whatever he’s done…” But the man jerks you forward and into a circle of angry people.  
“I say we kick the shit out of it.” The man growls and there’s a surge of agreement.

“Stop!” And Dr Bridges is there, shoving her way through the crowd. “Stop it!” Her eye is still a faded yellow from where the God-King struck her and she looks tired and drawn, but her eyes are filled with determination. She pushes her way through to the centre of the circle and puts her arms around you protectively.  
“Get out of the way Bethany.” The man says threateningly and you cling to her desperately.  
“This child saved your son’s life, Alec. How did you think I was able to get the antibiotics you needed?” She snaps and the man looks confused. She turns to address the crowd.  
“We’ve all made deals with Loki, everyone here. Not one of us is innocent. This child just made the worst one.” She shouts out. “This kid stood up to the God-King and traded their life away for two of the Avengers. None of us could have stopped what happened next, what happened to Hawkeye. But he’s still around, he might beat the magic, he might still save us. But if he’s dead, who will?” She glares at Alec. “Do you think you’d stand against the Prince of Asgard?” She asks him.  
“Just give me a chance Bethany. Just give me a chance.” He flexes his muscles and everyone laughs.  
“You’re an idiot.” She tells him bluntly. “And if any one of you raises a hand to this defenceless child, I won’t treat you or your families ever again.” They mumble, still angry and your knuckles whiten you’re holding her so tightly. “I mean it!” 

“What’s this to you, anyway?” Another voice calls out and Dr Bridges points to her face.  
“You see this?”  
“Yeah.”  
“You know how I got it?” She asks.  
“’Cause the bastard Loki punches women.” There’s another surge of anger.  
“He was going to kill me. But this child saved my life, by standing in the way and begging him to stop. Loki saw reason and walked away, because of this child.”  
”So he’s got a little pet? So what?”  
“You know what happened next? Loki punished them for getting in the way. He can get in this child’s mind and cause so much pain…” Her voice breaks and she looks around again defiantly. “The kid knew what was going to happen, did it anyway and took the punishment – to save my life. Can any of you say the same?”  
There’s more muttering, but the anger has died down. 

“So kid, why are you here?” Another voice asks.  
“I just, I just want to use a treadmill?” You say, half-answering/half-asking permission in a shaky voice. “The God-King sent me down to get into shape.”  
There’s a ripple of amused laughter.  
“You’re half dead, kid. Looks like he wants to send you all the way.”  
“He was angry with me at breakfast, I think this is part of the punishment.” You answer truthfully.  
“What’d you do?” A third person asks and you turn to the voice.  
“I ask too many questions.”  
“Like what?”  
“Look, do you… Um, do you know where I am? He won’t tell me.”  
“You don’t know where you are?” Alec asks in disbelief.  
“No. I don’t know where I am and I barely know what’s happening in the city and I don’t know where Hawkeye is or what he’s done and I…” You’re crying now, helpless tears falling down your cheeks. “And I’m scared, I’m scared all the time. He hurts me for fun.”  
There’s more angry muttering, but it isn’t directed at you anymore.  
“Go on, kid. Use what you want.” Alec says, gesturing in disgust and pity. “I’m sure Bethany will fill you in on the details.”

The crowd disperses and Dr Bridges takes you to the nearest treadmill. She dials it up to an easy walk and you start to exercise.  
“Ten minutes.” She says.  
“I have to do half an hour.”  
“You can’t do more than ten minutes. Then you rest for ten and then you do ten more.” She tells you in a voice which will accept no argument.  
“Okay.” You agree. “He’ll be happy with that.”  
“He’d better be.” She says darkly and you smile.

“You didn’t have to lie for me.” You say quietly.  
“So I changed the details slightly. You still saved my life. We both know he wasn’t going to stop.”  
“No, he wasn’t.” You agree. “And thank you for looking after me while I was ill.”  
“Are you kidding? I got twice the medical supplies in return for the extra work. And he agreed to let me co-ordinate medical teams throughout the city. I’m sorry the infection spread, you didn’t deserve it. But there’s a silver lining to everything, right?”  
“Right.” You agree. “So, um, where am I?”  
“You’re on the twentieth floor of the Empire State Building.”  
“Seriously?”  
“Uh-huh.”  
“But that’s only a few blocks from Stark Tower.”  
“Stark Tower’s uninhabitable since the portal showed up. The circle of energy has taken over the top thirty floors and Iron Man’s security protocols won’t let anyone in.”  
“How’d you know?”  
“You hear all sorts of things when you’re doing triage in the street.”  
“I guess.”  
“The Chitauri swarmed this building after the fighting. They put all the glass back and made it habitable in less than two days. Then our new god started bringing people in. He has hostages in the top of the tower to keep our new leaders in line. If they don’t do what he wants the Chitauri get to play.”  
“New leaders?” You ask. You’ve only been walking a few minutes and you’re already beginning to sweat. Dr Bridges gives you a bottle of water and you take a few sips and give it back.  
“You really don’t know anything?” She asks in surprise.  
“He gets angry if I ask too much.” You look away and around the room in nervous tension.  
“Well after the battle ended he designated blocks as ‘Pens’ and moved us back in. He’s giving us building supplies and rations, but we have to do the work ourselves. Every pen is around two hundred thousand people, crammed into an eight block radius. We were told to decide among ourselves who our representatives would be. And from those they chose twenty people who would come here and represent us when he holds court. Only medical staff are allowed to travel between the pens, anyone else caught out and about are carried off by the Chitauri. And we only have that because of the deal I made when you fell really sick.” 

“Do you think he likes me?” You ask. You need to know her opinion.  
“He wants you around, for sure.” Dr Bridges tell you. “And once I swear I caught him singing you a lullaby.”  
“I… I remember that. Among other things… Was Hawkeye around when I was ill?”  
“No, he’s off quelling the last few pockets of resistance, him and Captain America. He hasn’t been here since… Hell, I don’t know if he’s ever been here.”  
“Okay, so that was a hallucination…” You nod and file it away.  
“I’m not surprised you were hallucinating. I’m surprised you pulled through at all. You’re tough, kid. Stronger than a lot of people I know.”  
“I can’t die, if I do then our deal will be over.” You bite your bottom lip. “And then nothing will hold him back.” Dr Bridges looks at you funny, but she doesn’t press you any further. Instead she looks at the readout on the treadmill and nods to herself.  
“Okay that’s ten minutes. Go and sit down and have a rest.”  
She passes you the water and you take a swig and go and sit on one of the empty benches. 

No one bothers you while you sit there. Your breathing is heavy and your heart is thudding in your chest. You’re sweating a little. It’s crazy how weak you are. People walk past and glance at you, but no one dares to engage you in conversation. Off to one side Alec is with a group of men, training with weights and egging each other on. He glances with you in condescension and says something you don’t catch except for ‘Loki’. The other men laugh and he turns back to his work out.  
“Well, he needs a serious lesson in manners.” A hologram of the God-King appears next to you and you nearly panic. But self-preservation moves in and you manage to keep your face casual. You look down at your feet.  
“I can’t talk to you here.” You tell him as quietly as possible.  
“Why not?” He asks.  
“You’re not popular and they’ll kick the living shit out of me.” You murmur, picking at the label of your bottle and keeping your voice extremely low. You don’t like to swear, but you need to get your point across as quickly and easily as possible.  
“They can’t see me. I wouldn’t want to cause a panic.” He says and then pauses. “Kick the living shit out of you?” He asks, his voice has an edge to it.  
“Oh yes.” You mutter. “Please go away.”  
“We’ll talk about this later.” He says and the hologram disappears.  
You let out a shaky breath.  
“Hey.” Bethany walks over. “You want to go another round?”  
You smile brightly, stand and walk over to the treadmill again.

*

“Come here.” The God-King is sitting on the couch, reading from a manila folder and tapping a finger on the arm of the chair.  
“Um, can I shower first?” You ask, shifting nervously from foot to foot.  
“You didn’t shower downstairs?”  
“Are you kidding me? After the reception I got I just wanted to get out of there.”  
“Fine.” He sighs. “Use the cheap soap and no shampoo, you haven’t earned it yet.”  
“Thank you, Majesty.” You give a little half bow and then rush to the bathroom. You’re desperate for the toilet as well, it feels like you haven’t been for the whole week you spent unconscious.

You’re as quick as you can be, no longer than five minutes but by the time you out of the shower unit, your workout clothes have morphed back to the normal set. You pull them on, grateful that they smell laundry fresh as well. 

Your god isn’t in the lounge when you get out, but you go and sit on the couch anyway. He’s back a minute later carrying a bowl. He pulls the folding table in front of you and sets it down where you can reach it. You glance in and see three scoops of ice cream and a plastic spoon.  
“You were right. I do like ice cream.” The God-King says. “Go on, take it.”  
You reach forward and then hesitate. Something feels off.  
“What’s the matter?” He asks you, but his voice is too interested, too calculating for the question to be innocent.  
“What’s in it?”  
“Vanilla and caramel, I believe.” He sits down and crosses his legs, putting the manila folder out of the way beside the couch.  
“And what else?” You insist and he shakes his head.  
“My my, you are suspicious.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.  
“I haven’t done anything to deserve ice cream.” You say.  
“Really, who are you to judge?” He asks. “Maybe I’m giving it to you to make up for the scare you had in the gym.”  
You narrow your eyes. You don’t believe him in the slightest. 

“Fine. It’s drugged. Is that what you wanted to hear?” He asks after the drawn out silence.  
“Not really. But I guessed. What kind of drug?”  
“A spell, actually. Less side-effects.”  
“So what does it do?” You press him for an answer and he licks his lips before he answers.  
“It will loosen you mind, make you a little more susceptible to suggestion. It will relax you and dull your emotions, so you will not feel afraid. It will make thing easier for you.”  
“Easier how?”  
“I’m going to go into your mind and I’m going to watch your memories from the last hour.”  
You frown in confusion.  
“Do you understand what I’m telling you?” He asks.  
“I understand the words, but not what you mean.”  
“I mean exactly what I say.”  
“But how is that even possible?”  
“When we made our bargain, you made it possible. I can do it with others, the ones I control with the sceptre, but with you I have no need of any external devices.” He pauses, looking you up and down. “It will however, be quite painful if you resist.”  
You bite your bottom lip and don’t say anything. 

“You’re thinking of running, aren’t you?” The God-King says as you glance nervously around the room. “I wouldn’t recommend it. In your state you wouldn’t get very far.”  
“Just ask me. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.” You hate the note of pleading in your voice.  
“And omit all the things you said to stop them giving you a beating.” The God-King almost looks sorry for you. “This morning I told you my strategy, it was foolish for me to do so and now I have to be sure you told no one else.”  
“The Chitauri ship thing.” You ask and he nods. “I didn’t say anything about it.”  
“And I have to be sure… Don’t run!” He says sharply as he sees your muscles tense. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I have to.”  
You force yourself to relax and you curl your legs up onto the couch to show your willingness to comply.

“Now.” He says, his voice calm and encouraging. “This can go several different ways. If you comply and allow me entry it can be very nice. You will find it very pleasurable and might even enjoy it. If you put up a token resistance, then my entry will chafe and you may well end up with a terrible headache afterwards. If you fight… Well, I will have to force my way in and I will not be gentle.”  
He smile brightens. “It’s almost like sex in a way.”  
“So, if I fight, you’ll mind rape me?” You ask.  
“I don’t have to go in very deep, the memories are still fresh in your mind. It would be a minor rape.”  
“I don’t think there’s any such thing.” You tell him and he shrugs.  
“Probably not.” He agrees. 

“So your plan was to drug me and then… Gain entrance into my mind… Without my permission?”  
“Did my explanation put you any more at ease?” He asks.  
“Not really.”  
“Then you see why I didn’t bother.”  
“A little common courtesy wouldn’t have hurt.” You snap.  
“What do you think this is?” He asks, opening his hands in a token gesture. “I could have just held you down and had my way with you the second you walked through the door.”  
You gut twists at his words and you feel a shiver of fear travel down your body.  
“Vanilla and caramel?” You ask looking at the melting ice cream.  
“That’s right.”  
“It’s not my favourite, but it’ll do.” You pick up the bowl and you start to eat.

The magic works quickly and by the time you’ve taken the last bite you’re feeling spaced out and detached from your surroundings.  
“Come to me.” You god says and you move along the couch and onto his lap. He cradles your head against his chest. You listen to his heart beat, counting the steady strong thuds as a lifeline against what’s about to happen. He lied, you’re still afraid, but you’re more accepting. There’s nothing you can do and you’re strangely calm about it. He presses his palm against your temple, the other arm stretching out along your body to hold you steady and you grab his hand and interlock your fingers around his. You take a deep breath and steel yourself as you feel him pushing his way into your head. 

You instantly know the experience is going to be nothing like the time you had the panic attack. Before he was outside your mind, stopping all the external terrors, defending your from your own fear. You were touching, feeling each other’s surface thoughts, but you had been two separate entities. Now he’s forcing his way into your mind, sliding in like a knife and twisting to open the gap wider. You feel your body twitch and hear the whimpers in your throat. He squeezes your hand reassuringly and then pushes deeper. He finds what he’s looking for almost immediately, isolates and removes it. He’s right, the way he unspools your memories is almost euphoric. The release of it, the trust held between the two of you, the calm, deep peace of sharing something so intimately.

You shiver when you hear yourself telling everyone how scared you are, how he hurts you for fun. You feel his disapproval, but also his acceptance that you were trying to stop a crowd from committing murder. Is there a little humour as well? You’re not sure.  
He listens to the conversation with you and Dr Bridges, noting how much you now know about your surroundings. When he reads the bit about asking her if he likes you, you feel his amusement and condescension. When it gets to the lullaby your memories suddenly shift and you’re seeing out of his eyes. He’s sitting beside you on an armchair reading quietly when you awaken and start to rave in your fever. He reaches out, tangles his hand in your hair and sings a spell that will knock you unconscious so he can read in peace. Dr Bridges walks into the room as he’s finishing and he snaps the book closed and removes his hand.  
“Are you ready for bed?” He asks her as he stands gracefully.  
“I am, Majesty. How’s the patient?” She asks, looking at you in concern.  
“Deeply asleep.” He assures her and leads her towards the bedroom.  
He feels your bitter disappointment and holds the emotion, enjoying the tang of it, like a new and interesting flavour. You try to pull away and he holds your thoughts in place for a moment, to show his strength over you, and then allows your memories to float back to where they came from. 

You expect him to disengage from your thoughts and he waits until the precise moment when you’re completely relaxed and convinced it’s all over to tunnel deeper into your mind. You hear yourself shout and physically struggle against him and he holds you tighter. In your thoughts you gather your will and slam down a barrier, halting him in his tracks as he bounces of it. You feel his surprise and a strange sense of pride and satisfaction. He winds up and hits the barrier with such force it makes your teeth rattle and the sound echoes in your head. But you hold him at bay. 

It’s only then you realise how much of your mind he holds in the balance and how little you have left to defend. He’s moved so quickly, so surely, he’s almost reached his goal before you could do anything about it. And what he wants is deep, very deep – something integral to you. But it’s over before it’s begun. You‘ve held him off temporarily, but it is only a temporary standoff. He will get through, it’s only a matter of time and in the meanwhile he could strip you bare, take all your memories and leave nothing but a vegetable behind, or a very amenable, mindless body. 

He can sense you working it out, he sits back and waits patiently. When you submit he gently pushes the barrier aside, enters into your very core and envelops the part of you he wants. You try to figure out what it is, try to find a way to remember, but it’s hopeless. You’re no match for his skill and knowledge, he cutting it out completely and there’s nothing you can do. You can feel the reverberations in the rest of you as it loses whatever it is he’s taking. As he withdraws he closes the barrier behind him with a friendly pat and pulls out of your mind as carefully as he can. 

You come back to the real world with your body in spasm. He holds you until the contractions fade, wiping your hair from your eyes and making soft comforting noises. You pull away and he lets you go. You stumble to the exit for the apartment, desperate to get to the corridor, to the lift, to the ground floor and out. You grab the handle and you scream – it’s so cold it burns.  
“I’m not going to let you leave.” He laughs as he says it. “I mean, really.”  
“I trusted you!” You scream at him.  
“Yes. Well. That’s where you went wrong, isn’t it.” He picks up the manila folder and flicks through until he finds his place. Pain flares behind your eyeballs and you sink to your knees.  
“Stop. Stop it, please.” You beg him. “I can’t take anymore.”  
“What? Oh that isn’t me. I told you not to fight.” His voice is chiding. “It will pass in time.” He goes back to reading and ignores you completely. 

You curl up on the ground clutching your head for a few minutes, until the urge to hide becomes too much. You crawl across the floor blindly until you reach a large table in the corner with a huge vase of flowers and an embroidered tablecloth which touches the carpet. You need to be somewhere dark and cool and you push the cloth aside and crawl underneath. You gather yourself in a foetal position, your head pressed tightly against your knees and your arms hugging your legs. You close your eyes, weep silently and wait for the pain to go away.


	10. Repercussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He slams the sceptre into the marble again. “Alec, Son of William – How do you plead?”  
> “Guilty on all counts and looking forward to smearing your face on the floor.” Alec hisses out through clenched teeth.  
> “You accept trial by combat?”  
> “You know I do.”  
> “And so it is witnessed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long, but fights scene take ages to write. 
> 
> So yeah, fight scenes, bloody death, threats of rape, probable rape behind closed doors. Oh and death, quite a bit of it. 
> 
> You know you love it. :)
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and for sticking by me while I get this out of my system.

*

“Come on, child. Time to face the world again.” The God-King sounds chipper and you groan. It’s been a few hours at least and the pain has almost faded, but it still hurts to open your eyes.  
“I said, come on.” The cloth is lifted and a hand grabs your ankle and pulls you out into the light of day. You whimper.  
“It hurts.”  
“Does it now?” There’s no sympathy at all in his voice. “And who’s fault is that?”  
You don’t answer. He offers you a hand and helps you to your feet. You fall against him and he pushes you away.  
“No foolishness.” He snaps and you wince at him through painful eyelids. He’s dressed in full regalia, leather armour, leather surcoat and green cloak with his golden horned helmet.  
“What’s the occasion?” You ask.  
“We’re going to court.” He tells you.  
“Who’s on trial?”  
“Alec, Son of William.”  
“Alec…” You bite your lip. “The man at the gym?”  
“Yes. For laying hands on my property.”  
“He didn’t…” And then you remember him catching your wrist. “Aren’t we all your property now?”  
“To a greater or lesser extent.” He agreed. “But value wise, you are greater than he is.”  
You don’t know whether to take comfort from that or not.

He gestures and you feel the wool and loose trousers turn into something tighter and more form fitting in green and black leather. Your shoes become heavier, capped with steel and a half cloak of green sits across your shoulders. You reach up and feel the thin wire crown tied into your hair. There are flowers woven into the metal. His fingers come up and touch the golden circle at the centre of your collar, moving it infinitesimally back in place.  
“Good. Now you look the part. We don’t want to be late.” 

You trudge after him without any enthusiasm.  
“I’d thought you’d be more excited about going to court for the first time.” He comments as the lift opens for you both. “After all, I am going to kill a man for you today.”  
“Kill?” You don’t know if it’s the headache, or the side effect of the magic wearing off, but the thought makes you nauseous.  
“Don’t worry I’ll make it slow.” He promises. “I’m looking forward to the exercise.”  
“You’re going to kill a man for touching me?”  
“It was his choice. Trial by combat.” Loki stretches happily, moving gracefully from foot to foot as the lift starts to descend. “And as the defendant you’ll sit at the right hand of my throne. Well, kneel.”  
“Shouldn’t I be fighting then?” You ask, massaging you painful eye sockets.  
“A minor cannot represent themselves. It is not allowed.”  
“Oh. Okay.”  
“But you do get to choose the weapon. So it’s going to be knife combat.”  
“It is?”  
“It is. You chose it when he decided the challenge.”  
“Okay.” It isn’t worth disagreeing. “Can you take some of the pain away?”  
“If I do that, how will you learn?” He asks in condescension.  
“But how can I watch if my eyes hurt?” The lifts reaches the floor and you both get out.  
“Fine.” He sighs and turns you to face him. He crouches in front of you, whispers a few words and touches your eyes with the tips of his fingers. The pain instantly dissipates.  
“Thank you, Majesty.” You give a half bow and he smiles.  
“You are most welcome.” 

The throne room is almost empty as you walk up the strip of grass green carpet towards the God-King’s chair of office. Ten heads are set on ornate spikes along the way and you avert your eyes. He notices your reaction and chuckles, but he doesn’t force you to look. Hawkeye and Captain America are standing in front of the throne, waiting to meet him and behind them are twenty men in black riot gear. They have black visors over their eyes and the helmets seem to have integrated gas masks. Their weapons look a cross between an automatic sub-machine gun and something organic. The barrels have a soft violet glow and the ammunition clips seem to throb with life.  
“When the spectators turn up, place them in groups of ten. Once the fight is over I want them to be taken to the cells until further notice. If any try to get involved with the trial, put them down quickly and cleanly and incinerate the bodies, the Chitauri have already expressed a disinterest in them as stock.” The God-King tells the men and they bow and walk towards the lifts.  
“And our special orders?” The Captain asks. His voice hasn’t changed since you saw him before the sceptre took him, but his expression is hard and frightening. You thought his eyes couldn’t get any bluer, but they seem to glow with the sceptre’s light.  
“After Alec, Son of William is dead you are to go to Pen Thirty Seven and decimate them. I want you to be thorough, do not take out whole families, I want everyone to know at least one of the people you kill personally. If the father is killed, the children and his wife shall be spared, the same in any other combination. Children are not off limits, this is a statement to those that would oppose me. I want it to be unambiguous.” The Captain nods and the God-King turns to Hawkeye. “You have Alec’s family here?” 

Hawkeye moves behind the throne and pulls three bound and gagged figures in front of both of you. A young boy, a young man and an older woman. You can see the family resemblance. The woman refuses to kneel and Hawkeye kicks her in the back of the legs to make her comply. The God-King looks at them thoughtfully with his hands behind his back.  
“Give the woman to the Chitauri, I have no need for her.” Hawkeye nods and pulls her off to one side. Your God kneels down and takes the gag off the small boy. He’s no more than six and shaking with fear, but he doesn’t cry.  
“Such a brave little thing.” The God-King says softly. He runs his hand through the boy’s blonde hair and lifts his chin with a finger. “Give him to the Chitauri as well.” 

You try to speak up, but one warning glance from your god stills your voice before you find it. He’s in no mood to put up with you and if you speak, you’ll regret it. You take a few steps back and he nods to himself before turning back to the young man.  
“Stand.” He orders and Hawkeye pulls the man roughly to his feet. The God-King watches him thoughtfully. The man is a round twenty years old, blue eyed with natural white-blonde hair and a rugged set to his features. You can see Alec’s resemblance in him and he has the same build. He’s tall, he can look the God-King in the eye and his shoulders are broad and strong.  
“What’s your name?” He asks and Hawkeye pulls the gag over the man’s head so he can answer.  
“Patrick.” The man answers, his voice angry and violent. The God-King smiles widely.  
“Untie him.” He commands. Hawkeye follows his orders and Patrick takes a threatening step forward.  
“You fucking coward!” He snarls and Hawkeye goes to hit him, but the God-King raises his hand to forestall him.  
“No. Let him speak.”  
“I’m done talking.” The young man growls and lunges at the God-King, who stands his ground, completely unconcerned. Patrick throws a punch which he catches easily and pulls to the side. You can see the man struggling helplessly to free his hand, shocked at sheer strength of the wiry figure in front of him. The God-King steps forward, pulling him in close. Patrick punches him in the ribs but your god doesn’t even flinch.  
“I like you.” He says quietly. “You have spirit.” He pulls Patrick’s head to the side forcefully by the jaw and lowers his mouth to the man’s neck as if to kiss him. He pauses as he feels Patrick’s resistance and nods thoughtfully at the fear in his eyes. 

“Ah. You’ve never slept with another man, have you?” The God-King asks and Patrick shakes his head as best as he can against the powerful grip. “Have you ever tried?” Another head shake. “Then perhaps you should experiment.” He licks his lips and leans into the trembling man’s ear. “I promise to be gentle.”  
Patrick pulls back in an explosion of strength, but he might as well be fighting immobile restraints for the amount of impact he achieves. The God-King lets go of Patrick’s head and takes one step forward to steady himself before pulling the man back into his embrace. Patrick struggles madly, striking the God-King repeatedly to absolutely no effect and trying to break his hold, growing more and more desperate in his attempts. The God-King holds him close, but does not hurt him and eventually Patrick gives in, his eyes wide and his chest heaving from his exertions. As the young man grows still the God-King pushes him back at arm’s length, holding him by the shoulders and looking him up and down thoughtfully. 

“You’re going to kill my dad, aren’t you?” Patrick asks and their eyes meet. The God-King smiles a slow predatory smile in answer. “Dad said you were nothing, just a damn figurehead for the aliens. Just another man. But he’s wrong.”  
“We all make mistakes in life, but some mistakes are fatal.” Your god says, watching the young man carefully. Your god’s expression is the same one he had in the ruins where you bargained for the Avenger’s lives. Serious, but slightly amused. You can see the desperation in Patrick’s face, the need to create a single ray of light in the darkness laid out in front of him – to find something to live for. He wants to reason with this monster in human form and he has already lost. You wonder how often the God-King has been in the same situation since he took New York, how many deals he has made for his own benefit or amusement.  
And then Patrick takes the plunge. 

“People say you’ll deal though.” He says, his voice filled with hope. “That you’ll keep your word if you agree to something.”  
You can almost feel the smug triumph radiating off the God-King at Patrick’s words as the man willingly walks into the trap. But your god’s expression does not change and he listens to Patrick seriously.  
“It depends on the agreement. But yes, I keep my bargains.” The God-King says and tilts his head slightly. He raises his finger before Patrick can speak. “But know your father is going to die. There will be no compact between us in this.”  
“Not my dad. Charlie.” Patrick says and he looks down at the young boy, still kneeling on the ground.  
“I have already made my decision.” The God-Kind shakes his head.  
“He’s sick.” Patrick protests.  
“The Chitauri will find that fascinating.” The God-King’s eyes flash with malice.  
“He’s five! He’s innocent, he has nothing to do with any of this.”  
“But he is your father’s son.”  
Patrick looks at him with desperation and you know the trap has closed.

“Just let him go. Take him to another Pen, give him away for adoption to another couple. There’re plenty who lost their kids in the war. Who would be happy to have him. You could change his name, no one will ever know.” Patrick begs.  
“And what will you give me in return?” The God-King asks and Patrick’s expression tells him everything. That he will give himself over, completely, unconditionally, if his god would spare his little brother’s life. Your god nods, his expression still a picture of serious consideration.  
“I see.” He says quietly.  
“Then you’ll do it?” Patrick asks.  
“Are you sure? You will never see him again and if you do not deliver…”  
“I’m sure.” Patrick looks down at his feet. “I will.”  
“Then kiss me.” His god commands and Patrick leans forward and presses his lips against his mouth. The God-King grabs his head and thrusts his tongue down his throat, kissing so hard that he splits the other man’s lip and blood runs down his chin. They pull apart, Patrick breathless and terrified, the God-King’s eyes bright with triumph and mischief.  
“Take them away.” He says and Hawkeye pulls the woman and the boy to their feet.  
“Wait, how do I know I can trust you?” Patrick asks. The God-King sighs and rolls his eyes.  
“If you’re very good, I will allow you a single visit to his new home.” He says as if speaking to a small child.  
“You promise?”  
“I promise.” The God-King smiles and the man falls to his knees.  
“Thank you. Thank you.”  
“Go and kneel by the left of my throne. You will watch your father die tonight.”  
“Can I… Can I say goodbye?” Patrick asks.  
“Be quick.” 

As the man goes to his mother, the God-King walks over to you and gestures you towards the throne.  
“Twenty thousand people?” You say in introduction. “You’re going to kill twenty thousand people? Just because he grabbed me by the wrist?”  
“Of course not. That would be an over-reaction.” He smiles. “I’m going to kill twenty thousand people because Pen Thirty Seven chose Alec, Son of William as their Representative. The consequences of such a poor decision should be made clear.”  
He glances down at you as you both cross the space.  
“But I’m impressed. You understand the true meaning of the word decimate and you have a simple grasp of mathematics.”  
“Another facet of the schooling you said I never needed.”  
The God-King chuckles.  
“Would you like a souvenir?”  
“Of what?”  
“From Alec, Son of William.” The God-King smiles. “A finger bone perhaps, or a polished piece of vertebrate. I’m planning on adorning my court with his head as a warning to others, but I’m sure a part of him can be spared for you.”  
“Ugh, no thank you.”  
“As you wish.” 

Six steps lead up to the large, ornate throne of the God-King. The steps are white marble and the green carpet runs in a thick strip up to the foot and then around the base. The throne is made from thousands of small intertwined saplings, twisted and woven in complex and beautiful patterns. Studs of malachite adorn the sides at intervals and the armrests are inlaid with emeralds where the God-King will place his hands. The seat itself is made of padded sage green leather which moves in a single piece up the back and is held in place with hundreds of tiny golden nails, hammered into the wood. The back is almost nine feet tall and the saplings have been teased out to look like the branches of a single tree. There are large embroidered cushions on each side of the throne and you kneel down on the one on the right. The God-King lounges in regal splendour and he calls the sceptre to his left hand. His other hand moves in distracted circles in your hair as he waits for Patrick to join you. His fingers are rough and his expression is moody as he stares off into the distance. His smile is gone and you can feel how tense he is as he awaits his victim. You can almost feel the hunger in him, the need for a dark and bloody kill. He’s angry and Alec, son of William has drawn all of his ire, intentionally or not. 

The first ten people come up in the lift and the God-King eyes them like potential cattle, like he doesn’t see them as people at all. His fingers move hard across your scalp, catching your hair painfully and making you yelp in surprise. His eyes flicker over you and he lifts his hand from your head. He moves it to the arm rest and drums heavily onto the gems instead, tapping out a loud and impatient tempo with his nails. The lift goes up and the lift goes down, disgorging people every minute or so. It continues until there are seven groups, all eyeing the throne nervously and all corralled off by the men in black riot uniforms. Every one of them was at the gym when you visited this morning. Everyone had witnessed the incident where you had feared for your life and Dr Bridges had pleaded your case. The good Doctor is one of the last to arrive and she is pushed forward to kneel in front of the throne alone on the first step.

“Bethany.” He says in greeting, his eyes still on the mass of people.  
“Majesty.” She replies, bowing her head.  
“I will allow you twenty more trained staff to attend to medical duties, in recompense for saving my child.” He says, but his voice sounds preoccupied. “We will make the contractual changes tomorrow.”  
“Thank you, Majesty.” She tips her head slightly to look at him. “Do you still require me tonight?”  
“No. I have another.” His voice is cold and Patrick shivers. “And I recommend you find a good book. You’ll be contained overnight.”  
“Contained?”  
“Locked in your quarters for your own safety.”  
“But I have sick people to attend to.”  
“Give the duties to someone else. I will have a servant come to you for instructions. For this evening they are not your concern.”  
Dr Bridges starts to protest, sees the look in the God-King’s eyes and quickly backs down.  
“As you wish, Majesty.” She says instead.  
The God-King gestures in dismissal and the guards take her away. 

And then the final character walks onto the stage. The lift rings and Alec steps out, flanked by Hawkeye and Captain America. His face is proud and his stride does not falter as he walks towards the throne. His hands are unfettered and it looks as if there had been no need for persuasion to get him here. The people around him begin to talk all at once and the throne room begins to buzz with noise. The God-Kings watches him in silence and you shiver in terror at the murderous emotions coming from his deadly still form. You wonder if you are the only one who feels it, if it is the connection between you and the God-King made manifest and then you hear Patrick weeping and see him just past the edge of the throne. His face presses into the marble as he prostrates himself to his god. The God-King does nothing to comfort him. His eyes locked on the prize walking towards the dais. 

Alec stops five feet from the throne and the God-King Loki slams the sceptre into the ground, stilling the crowd and forcing absolute silence.  
“Good evening, your Majesty.” Alec says, his voice laced with contempt.  
“Alec, Son of William, you stand accused of inciting rebellion and sedition among my subjects. You are accused of refusing to recognise my rule and in trying to damage my personal property. How do you plead?” The God-King asks, his voice fierce and filled with angry authority. Alec’s eyes slide over you and you can’t meet his gaze, you can’t look at this man condemned to death. He thinks it is weakness and you hear him snort in derision. Then he sees Patrick and his expression changes from aloof pride to a father’s rage.  
“Patrick? What have you done to my son?” He demands aggressively.  
“Perhaps you should ask what I have already done to your wife and youngest boy.” The God-King says. “You knew the price.”  
Alec almost surges forward, but manages to contain himself. He spits at the throne instead.  
“They will be remembered, as the half million you killed on the day of your arrival will be remembered.”  
“I’m sure you know every name.” The God-King’s lips twitch in cruel amusement. “I’m sure you recognised every arm and every foot that was pulled from the rubble.” He leans forward in his seat. “Do not waste my time with foolish rhetoric and wasted sentiment.” He slams the sceptre into the marble again. “Alec, Son of William – How do you plead?”  
“Guilty on all counts and looking forward to smearing your face on the floor.” Alec hisses out through clenched teeth.  
“You accept trial by combat?”  
“You know I do.”  
“And so it is witnessed.” The sceptre vanishes in a flicker of golden light and the God-King stands. His cloak, surcoat and helmet vanish in preference to a light suit of leather armour. He gestures to Alec and the man’s grubby jeans and t-shirt change to a crimson red as he too is armoured for combat. Captain America steps between them and kneels. He is holding an ornate metal case, which he opens and lifts into the light. Two eight-inch daggers glitter in their surrounding black velvet. They are straight and sharp, dangerous and beautiful. Silver filigree runs across the flats and the handles are twisted platinum. The pommels are fashioned in the shape of screaming faces.

“Choose your weapon, Son of William.” The God-King says as he descends the stairs. Alec looks at them both, smiles and takes the nearest one. The God-King shakes his head in mild disapproval at such a quick decision but takes the remaining blade with the grace of a seasoned fighter. The Captain closes the case with a small snap, stands and both he and Hawkeye bow. Then they move to flank the throne, two steps up on either side. Hawkeye stands on the right and you gaze at him, but he doesn’t look back. His eyes are dead and his face blank. But there is a tension in his frame and something deep inside, something far behind the frost, seems to burn with hate. You want to whisper his name, to see if he reacts, but you don’t dare. The silence in the room is oppressive and heavy. Everyone else is waiting with expectation. You look around and see the hope on their faces, they are willing Alec to win. Patrick shifts uncomfortably on his side of the throne. He has stopped crying, no longer overwhelmed by the God-King’s anger, but he sniffs and gives the occasional soft whimper. You feel incredibly sorry for him. 

The two combatants step into the space cleared for the fighting and face each other. The God-King puts his free hand behind his back, places his right foot forward and moves the dagger in a perfect vertical arc as he nods his head at his foe. Alec nods back and the preliminary greeting is over.  
Their first clash is over in moments, a quick flash of blades, the sharp sound of metal connecting and they part and circle each other. Alec is wary, watching the other combatant intently. The God-King is no less intense, but his stance is looser and a cold smile is playing his lips. He darts forward, watching Alec’s defence and draws back. He does this several times, baiting the heavier man and finally Alec lunges in reply. The blades move, the two fighters pass each other and in the flurry of activity, nothing seems to happen. And then they part, pull away and the God-King’s dagger is red with blood. Alec reaches up to his ear and feels the single clean cut where his lobe used to be.  
The God-King smiles widely.

Alec snarls and presses forward. The blades meet again, but Alec decides on some dirty tactics. He kicks out at the God-King, but misses as the leaner figure gracefully moves aside. He pays for the attack with a single thin line across his cheek. Alec moves to the side with a single backward step and then plunges forward, catching the daggers together and trying the grapple with his free hand. The God-King catches his middle finger and twists once and Alec screams as the sharp crack of bone fills the room. He staggers and leaves himself wide open, but his opponent steps away and lets him recover. You see the flicker of recognition as Alec realises he’s being toyed with. They clash again several times and every bout finishes with Alec gaining another wound and the God-King remaining undamaged. 

“Just do it!” Alec shouts in frustration. “If you’re going to kill me, then do it, you fucking bastard!”  
The God-King shrugs.  
“I’m not ready to kill you yet, Alec, son of William.” He answers. “You promised me a fight to the death, do not disappoint me.” 

They clash again, Alec growing increasing desperate and the God-King reaches out, catches his wrist, and shifts to the side. His leg goes under Alec’s hip and he lifts the man and throws him to the floor.  
“Sloppy.” He chides and Alec rolls to his feet.  
“Is this a game to you?” Alec demands.  
“You thought it a game, didn’t you Son of William? A game of politics where you backed me into a corner and forced me to face you. You sought to kill me publically and free New York single-handed. A child’s game, a child’s dream. Do you think the Chitauri will just roll onto their backs with my death? Do you think the people will chant your name to the heavens?” The God-King asks mockingly.  
Alec backs away, swallowing hard.  
“You sacrificed your family for this moment Son of William, like pawns on a chess board. You gave you son over to my tender mercy. Was it worth it?”  
“I will free him, as I will free all your captives, all your slaves.” Alec shouts in rage and lunges forward. The God-King barely moves at all. He raises the blade to deflect the incoming blow and shoves Alec aside. The man grunts and falls to one knee, then pulls himself up again and faces his tormentor. 

“I will bed your child tonight, Son of William, and he will cry and beg me for compassion. But I am hungry for blood and you are not providing the sport I expected. Give the rest of your life meaning, fight me well and your son shall know my favour. Every red pleasure I take from you is one less I shall take from his hide as he lies under me, helpless and alone.” The God-King gestures, grinning as Patrick gives a low moan of fear at his words. “See how he accepts his fate? Buy him mercy, Son of William, with what breath you have left.” 

Alec screams with impotent rage and lifts himself to his full height. The next clash is hard and fierce, Alec using every trick he knows to bring the God-King low. But it isn’t enough, it will never be enough. The God-King is far more experienced, far more graceful, his reflexes are so much faster than the human he fights. At the end Alec sports ten more cuts across his back and chest and the God-King remains untouched. The man grips his knees, his chest heaving from his attempts to maim his foe and the God-King sighs.  
“Such a waste of my time.” He says. “If that was the best you can do.” He strides up to Alec and the man tries to rise and stab the God-King in the side. Your god deflects the blow with the armour on his wrist with such force that the blade leaves Alec’s hand and skitters across the floor. He takes Alec by the throat, pulls him up on to his tiptoes and drives his blade deeply into Alec’s stomach.  
“Dad!” Patrick goes to dash forward but the Captain steps up to him and holds him down.

Alec and the God-King lock gazes. The god twists the blade slowly and Alec makes soft wet noises as blood trickles from his mouth. The knife is pulled clean and the god plunges it in again and Alec’s entire body spasms from the impact. His eyes begin to dull and the God-King watches him die. He pulls the blade free one more time and drops the body to the floor. He wipes the blade clean on Alec’s hair and then dips his fingers in the wound. He turns and walks up the stairs to where Patrick lies helpless and terrified. The God-King wipes the blood on his forehead and cheeks and then kisses him tenderly. 

Someone from the crowd breaks free and picks up the second knife. The guns roar and the crowd screams. The God-King stands and looks at the bullet-torn body. He looks back at the cowering crowd.  
“Kill them all.” He says and turns back to Patrick as the guns shout anew.

You can’t move. You haven’t been able to move an inch since the crowd was mown down and the bodies piled into the lift for disposal. It’s been over fifteen minutes, the corpses are nearly all gone and servants have appeared to clean up the blood from the mosaic floor. The God-King holds Patrick close, he’s been whispering into the poor man’s ear as he trembles and looks at the remains of his father. You can’t make out the words, your ears are ringing and you don’t think you’ll ever hear properly again. Finally Patrick looks at his god, whispers back and nods and the God-King kisses him on the forehead. Your god stands and Hawkeye retrieves the fire axe from where it hangs at the back of the throne. He goes before the dais, kneels and raises it above his head as the God-King takes it from him. It only requires a single blow to decapitate Alec, Son of William and then he gives the axe back. Hawkeye cleans the blade and returns it to its rightful place. The men in black riot uniforms take the body away. 

The God-King seems to notice you for the first time. He ascends the steps and crouches down so you are of a level.  
“How are you feeling?” He asks and your stomach heaves in answer. You only just avoid the carpet, your terror at punishment holding the reflex back for the barest moment, and then you vomit down the marble steps. The God-King tuts in disapproval.  
“Your first day in court was rather bloody, wasn’t it?” He says in mock regret.  
You don’t say anything. You can’t trust yourself not to say something stupid and your throat is burning with acid.  
“I promise the second time will be better.” He says and wipes the sick from you lips with a handkerchief. Once he’s done you lower your face to the carpet, giving him your complete and utter submission. You can’t get you head around all that has happened. You know you’re in shock and he strokes you hair gently.  
“Was it all a bit much?” He asks and you nod. “Poor little thing.” He lifts you from the carpet so you have to look him in the eye. You want to cry, but the tears won’t come. He strokes your cheek to soothe you.  
“Let’s get you home.”

Hawkeye and Captain America flank you as you walk down the length of the carpet to the elevator. The God-King herds both you and Patrick carefully as you walk in front of him. The lift goes up one floor and you get out, but the Avengers stay in the lift. As it begins its descent you remember that their killing for the day isn’t over yet. All those people in the throne room and your god is still not satisfied. He takes you into the kitchen and gives you both a glass of milk to ease your stomachs. He watches you both drink in silence and then takes you to his bedroom.  
“You will sleep by the door.” He tells you and you just nod in compliance. Your curl up in the plush, thick pile as the God-King takes Patrick to his bed and closes the door behind him.  
You lie there in the dark for a while, listening to Patrick’s whimpers and your Gods low commanding voice. You think you’ll never sleep again as the pain begins to grow behind your eyes once more. But your body has other ideas and at some point in the night, as Patrick’s voice begins to beg, your mind clouds over and you pass out into slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how long the next chapter is going to take me, sorry about that. But it's called The Taming of Tony Stark, so you can guess why it might take me a while. It's either going to come out in one big matharthon session, or refuse to come out at all. 
> 
> Please comment, it makes writing this so much easier. :)


	11. The Taming of Tony Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you walk past the elevator you turn in confusion.  
> “We’re using the stairs.” He says in explanation.  
> “But the stairs only go up and you said, you said…” You can’t finish the sentence.  
> “That the floors above this one are Chitauri held, yes. That is where I keep my cells.”  
> “Oh.” You thought they’d be in the basement or something. Medieval type dungeon affairs. He seems to read your thoughts.  
> “No one can get above the seventieth floor without my express permission and only by using my personal lift. No one can get above the eightieth without using the stairs or by aerial assault and since I own the airspace, that isn’t going to happen any time soon.”  
> “That does make a certain kind of sense.” You agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yay for writing marathons! :)
> 
> Sorry I haven't gotten around to answering your comments, but - writing marathon...
> 
> And forgive any typos, I finished writing this about twenty minutes ago and haven't had the chance to read through it properly yet. But I won't be able to write tomorrow so I thought I'd get this out there as soon as I could. 
> 
> Right - now to get three hours of sleep before I have to get up, pack my bags and catch a train. It's what you get for channelling your inner Tony... :) (Oh and deliberately no spoilers in the chapter summary - I didn't want to give anything away.)

*

You’re woken by a heavy boot pressing into the small of your back.

“Time to rise and shine.” The God-King smiles and presses a little harder.  
“Ugh.” Of all the human phrases he could have used, you hate that one the most. You roll forward to ease the pressure and get on your hands and knees. He offers you a hand and you take it – you still feel weak and ill and tired. “What time is it?”  
“Early.” He says and you squint up at him to show your disapproval. The bedroom door is open and you see Patrick sprawled on the bed, half covered by the sheets. He’s deeply asleep.  
“Why does he get a lie in?” You complain.  
“Because he watched his father die yesterday.” The God-King says and you shrug.  
“I watched my dad die almost two weeks ago and no one’s given me a day off.” You grumble but start moving in the direction of the kitchen and breakfast.

“My, but your grumpy. Not a morning person?” The God-King sounds chipper and you give him another bleary glare.  
“Mass-murder appears to give some people a spring in their step.” You answer caustically and wince at the warning twinge in your head. “Oh, sure, wake me up before the dawn chorus and then give me a headache.” The pain gets incrementally worse. “Alright, alright, you win. I’m shutting up now.”  
“The dawn chorus was three hours ago. I know. I was there.” The God-King says as the pain eases away.  
“Don’t you ever sleep?”  
“Not like you mortals do. You need to sleep so much it’s astounding you ever get anything done.”  
“It helps when there aren’t any god’s around waking you up in the middle of the night.” You mutter and the God-King ruffles your hair.  
“I’d punish you, but somehow I don’t think you’re awake enough to appreciate it.” He says. “I’ll wait until after breakfast.”  
“So long as there’s coffee.” You grump and the God-King chuckles.  
“I think you’ve earned a little coffee.” He agrees. 

There’s hot toast with butter, waffles with maple syrup and a small bowl of fruit salad for breakfast with an even smaller cup of coffee. Once the coffee’s gone you have to make do with orange juice, but it does the trick. After you’ve eaten you’re beginning to feel a lot better.  
“Awake now?” The God-King asks. He’s reading the paper and eating toast and you stiffen at the edge to his tone.  
“You can’t punish me for stuff I said while I was half asleep.” You say and he gives you a look filled with promise. “Is it too late to say how sorry I am?”  
“How sorry are you?” He asks. He doesn’t sound convinced.  
“More sorry than I think I can ever express in words.” You say and his lips twist in a half-smile.  
“Then I think you’re in trouble.”  
You slide off the stool while he watches you with amusement and you get on your knees.  
“That’s it?” He asks and you lean forward and press your forehead to the ground.  
“I apologise, Majesty for the things I said while I wasn’t fully conscious. I’m incredibly sorry, please, please don’t hurt me.”  
“Not good enough, I’m afraid.” 

The pain blossoms in your skull and you grit your teeth as it grows like a slow motion explosion, expanding in a controlled and agonising sphere of flame. You sob and start to crawl away and the pain continues to grow. It’s maddening, you can handle the sharp sudden stabs he’s administered before, but this is torture, pure and simple. You don’t beg him to stop. You want to, but you know it won’t do anything and it might make things worse. You hear the soft sound of him moving from the stool onto the tiled floor. The pain continues to grow exponentially, a calculated cruelty to make it even harder to endure. You’re drooling on the floor, you mouth slack in a fixed grimace and you can’t move anymore, can’t even think. You track his footsteps as he leaves the room and then there’s nothing but the pain filling every crevice of your mind. You can’t stand much more of this, you’re body just isn’t strong enough and your mind is still raw from the day before. Why? Why did you run your mouth off at him? He’s going to kill you for it, like he killed all those people in the throne room.

You whine as the memory comes back unbidden, the roar of the guns, the screams of the dying, the begging of those only wounded. So much blood and death to come from three small words of command. Why did he do it? Why did he kill them all? He didn’t need to, he had made his point. Why did he make you watch? You flop onto your side as your body continues to try to get away. You’re not giving it any commands anymore, it’s just working on instinct. You hear him coming back in the room. He kneels beside you, takes your head in his hand and the pain begins to fade. You feel cold metal pressing up against your jaw and you stop breathing.  
“You’re young, so I’m showing you mercy. But if you ever talk to me like that again I will not stop until your heart gives in.” His voice is calm, almost reasonable. “Blink twice if you understand.”  
You do so and the sharp point is removed.  
“You have five minutes to gather what few wits you ever owned and then I want you in the lounge.”  
You blink again twice.  
“Very good.” He stands and you hear him taking a bite of his toast as if nothing had happened as he gets back on the stool and finishes his breakfast. 

You don’t know how long it takes you to crawl into the lounge. You can’t stand yet and you barely have the sense to workout which way you should be moving. You’re about halfway through the door when the God-King picks you up and carries you the rest of the way. He sits you on the couch and you curl up as far from him as you can. You don’t even have the strength to cry or shiver, you know he’s pushed you to the very edge of your endurance, to the very inch of death. You’re terrified of him and you can’t even show it. 

“Open your mouth.” He says and you realise that while you were preoccupied he’s moved closer. You cringe back into the sofa making sounds so pitiful you embarrass yourself.  
“Stop it.” He orders and you try your best to relax, try your best to appease him. “Now open your mouth.”  
You do as he says and a spoon is forced between your lips. It’s cool and prickles your tongue. You taste the contents and look at him in surprise. It’s mint chocolate ice cream.  
“Let it melt in your mouth before you swallow.” He tells you and you follow his instructions. He pulls the spoon out and fills it from the bowl in his lap. You let the sweetness melt and swallow carefully, then you open your mouth again. 

“You shouldn’t make me angry.” He tells you as he gives you the next spoonful. You blink in agreement. “And you know how disappointed I was with Alec, Son of William.”  
You let the ice cream melt, swallow carefully and take the next helping without comment.  
“You should know better than to bait me. No matter how tired you are.”  
Blink in agreement, allow the spoonful to melt, swallow and open your mouth again.  
“I could have killed you.”  
Shudder in fear, blink, melt, swallow, open.  
“I would have killed you, if you weren’t so stubborn.” There’s a hint of pride in his voice. “Sometimes I think you were born in the wrong Realm.”  
“Magic?” You whisper and he looks at you in surprise.  
“Yes. Another spell, to give you your strength back this time. It might take a while to work though, you’re very strung out.” He sighs. “Another waste of my time and energy.”  
He gives you another spoonful.  
“Thank you.” Your voice is a ghost, it’s hard to gather the words. “For. Mercy.”  
“This wasn’t what I planned for this morning.” He chides. “You are a very foolish child.”  
“Yes.” You agree and he shakes his head.  
“But a sweet one all the same.” He admits. “And too useful to die in pain on the kitchen floor.”  
“Sorry.” You say and he pauses in giving you the next spoonful.  
“Now that one I do believe.” He says and continues to feed you. 

When the bowl is empty he stands and leaves you where you are without comment. He goes into the kitchen to dump the bowl and then into the bathroom. You sit where he left you as you hear the shower running. You could move, but it just seems like too much effort and your muscles keep twitching as the spell moves through your body. He walks out in a suit, his hair still damp and looks at you as if deciding what to do. He moves in front of you, standing there with his head on one side and you look back, not sure what’s going to happen next.  
“Well I was going to take you on a little trip.” He says eventually. “Some fresh air, a small journey into New York. I thought you might like it, but I suppose it isn’t really an option now.”  
The realisation that running your mouth off not only brought a terrible punishment, but lost you a chance to go outside, hurts deeply. The pain on your face must be obvious because his face softens slightly and he glances around the room before continuing.  
“I’ll be back in a few hours, get some rest. If you need something to drink, feel free, but no eating, your stomach will not handle anything solid until the spell finishes its work. Your backpack is in the chest by my bedroom door if you need to find some comfort.” He purses his lips in disapproval as he looks down at you.  
“Such a stupid child.” He mutters and then turns and leaves the apartment. 

You sit on the couch, rest your head on the cushion and look up at the ceiling for an indeterminable period of time. You limbs are heavy and you feel strange and warm and comfortable and ill at ease all at the same time. You want to run around screaming while at the same moment you never want to move again. Eventually your bladder makes itself known and you force yourself to interact with the world. It’s hard, your limbs are heavy and unco-operative. You half-fall from the couch, catching yourself just before you sprawl on the carpet and you stand in a half crouch, your hands on your knees, gasping for air like you’ve just run a marathon. It takes a few minutes before the room stops spinning and you can make another attempt. The lounge becomes an obstacle course, a place filled with stop points where you can rest before pushing on towards your goal. You move from chair, to table to wall, to cupboard, each time stopping while the world rights itself and your oxygen levels rise again. Finally you reach the bathroom door and cling to the handle as you use your body weight to push yourself inside. Once your bladder is empty you take off your clothes in stages and then pull yourself up to the sink and fill it with warm water. You give yourself a half-hearted body wash, getting rid of all the sweat and stink from last night and then you curl up on the rug for a while and try to get your breath back. 

As you lie there you feel the spell beginning to kick in properly and your strength begins to return in soft waves of warm electricity. It makes you twitch and your muscles cramp, but it feels good, far better than the insane weakness you had to endure to get here in the first place. You push up from the rug and your legs take your weight as you stand, though your knees are a little shaky. You exit the bathroom with the intention of going into the kitchen for a glass of milk, but you see that the bedroom door is ajar and go that way instead. 

Patrick is still deeply asleep on the God-King’s bed and you watch the soft rise and fall of his chest with a growing anger. It wasn’t fair, it just wasn’t fair. He watched his dad die because his dad was a fucking idiot – hell his dad sold his son into slavery for a crack at fighting the God-King and he didn’t even do that properly. Alec had been a douche, a bully, a vicious man that would have beaten you half to death because you were associated with a person he didn’t like.

Your dad had always been kind. He had helped you with your homework, took you to the cinema on weekends and had always been there for you. He would never have dreamed of using politics against you for some stupid high flung idea. He hadn’t deserved to die the way he did, in such a sudden and awful and meaningless way…

And now Patrick gets to sleep it off, after just one night of having to deal with the God-King, where you get woken at the crack of dawn and tortured and told of all the wonderful things you could have had, but couldn’t because of three fucking sentences said without a filter…  
Patrick hadn’t had to run through a war zone, alone and afraid. He hadn’t had to carry horrible injuries, he hadn’t had to bargain or try to second guess a cruel and terrible monster who turns on you for saying the wrong thing. Who only gives you ice cream when it’s drugged. And, yes Patrick has to face the God-King, he has to let him do… Whatever… But at least he knows why he’s alive, at least he knows how to keep the God-King happy…  
You have no idea why you’re alive, no idea why the God-King made his deal with you. He should have laughed in your face when you pleaded the case for the Avenger’s lives. What are you to him, if not just a stupid kid? He could have just dragged you along anyway, used you and discarded you as he saw fit. Yet he did deal, he trapped you and caged you and now he torments you, gentle one minute, violent the next. You don’t know where you stand with him, don’t know what will set him off. You’ve said worse things and he’s just laughed, but today he almost killed you.  
You slide down the door and curl up on yourself. You put your hands in your hair and your face on your knees and you just let the blackness and despair take you.

“What are you doing?” The God-King’s voice is soft and you look up at him and sigh. He must have come in while you were drifting.  
“I don’t know.” You tell him. “I just… I just… I don’t know.”  
“How do you feel?”  
“Better.”  
“Walk around for me. I want to see.”  
You get up and your body responds without protest. Walking is easy and you feel better than you have in a long time.  
“How long will it last?” You ask.  
“Most of the day. I need you at your optimum.”  
“Why? What are we doing?” You look at him and he smiles.  
“Dealing with a tricky prisoner.”  
“Huh.” The single syllable is filled with everything you think about that answer and the God-King raises an eyebrow. You lower your eyes hurriedly and he squeezes your shoulder in a reassuring gesture, so you force yourself to relax. 

The God-King gives you a basket. It’s filled with sandwiches and different drinks and a strange piece of tech of origin unknown. You go to pick it up but the God-King gives a small hiss of warning and you pull your hand back.  
“No touching.” He tells you and you nod.  
“So what do I do with it?”  
“I am in the final stages of breaking the man to suit my needs. Today I am going to be at my absolute worst, I am going to push him the edge of his sanity and afterwards you will come to him. You will offer him comfort and understanding and you will give him the basket. Over the next few weeks you will befriend him, gain his trust and guide him towards doing exactly what I want.”  
“Are you going to hurt me?” Your voice only trembles slightly when you ask.  
“Only if it becomes necessary.”  
“And if he doesn’t let me in?”  
“Make sure that he does.”  
You let out a long breath.  
“Okay.” You nod to gather your courage. 

“I warn you, he’s used to illusions by now and he may not think you real for quite a while. It will be up to you to persuade him otherwise.”  
You don’t bother to ask how you’re supposed to do that.  
“And while I torture him, he will not be able to see you. I will keep you from his sight until I leave the room.”  
“Then why bring me along for the first part?”  
“Because you need to know what he saw, you need to understand where he is emotionally. You cannot come into this cold or it will not work.”  
“Okay.” You repeat and look at the basket again.  
The God-King squeezes your shoulder again to show his impatience and you allow him to lead you from the apartment and towards the elevator. 

When you walk past the elevator you turn in confusion.  
“We’re using the stairs.” He says in explanation.  
“But the stairs only go up and you said, you said…” You can’t finish the sentence.  
“That the floors above this one are Chitauri held, yes. That is where I keep my cells.”  
“Oh.” You thought they’d be in the basement or something. Medieval type dungeon affairs. He seems to read your thoughts.  
“No one can get above the seventieth floor without my express permission and only by using my personal lift. No one can get above the eightieth without using the stairs or by aerial assault and since I own the airspace, that isn’t going to happen any time soon.”  
“That does make a certain kind of sense.” You agree.  
“And it means that the cells are under supervision at all times, rather than having to make do with a few mortal jailers.”  
“And the Chitauri don’t touch them?”  
“We both have our agreements and arrangements.” He tells you as you start to climb the stairs. “They understand the concept of hostages and high-value prisoners. They understand the strategies of war.”  
“Well, that’s good I guess…”  
“And they understand the concept of ownership.” The God-King smiles at you. “They will not harm you while you are in their territory.”  
You sag in relief as he answers your unspoken question.  
“How far up do we have to go?” You ask.  
“Five floors. Do you feel up for it?”  
“I’ll manage.” You agree, you’re feeling better and better as time goes on.  
“Good. It would be tiresome to have to carry you.”  
“It would be tiresome to be carried.” You answer and then wince. You just can’t say shit like that, what’s wrong with you? But he just squeezes your shoulder again and chuckles.  
“On that we can both agree.” 

The Chitauri floor is completely open plan with corridors dividing work spaces with sheets of glass. The clear walls shimmer with the purple electricity and it is the only light source, save for the Chitauri themselves. All the windows to the outside world have been blacked out. There are medical tables everywhere and you’re glad of the pervading darkness, it means you can’t make out the struggling figures held down on them. Nor can you hear anything save for both your footsteps on the concrete floor. The glass cuts off any other noises and you can guess they wouldn’t be nice.  
“Don’t look too closely.” The God-King advises and you nod in agreement.

In the centre of the floor is a space that is completely blacked out. As you get closer you can see individual cubes, divided by the smallest of straight white lines where the glass walls touch each other. Each cell appears to be around six feet by six feet and as high as the ceiling – you count your steps as you walk passed the first pane to try and work it out. There are a lot of them and more beyond the initial line of cells, you walk past several thin corridors that take you deeper into the prison. The God-King, however, heads for one of the slightly larger outer cells. He places his hand against the glass and whispers a few words and the glass shimmers with electricity.  
“Place your hand here.” He tells you and indicates to splay your fingers over where his has touched. You hand isn’t as big but the glass shimmers purple around your finger tips and feels warm and fuzzy with static.  
“Now it will recognise your hand print as well, so you can fulfil your duty.” He explains and you nod to show you understand. The God-King straightens his suit and tie and lifts his shoulders.  
“How do I look?” He asks playfully.  
“Handsome.” You answer truthfully and he preens. “Like a high-powered businessman.”  
“Good.” He winks at you and then gestures and you’re back in your old jeans, t-shirt and trainers. They smell clean even though they are as ripped and torn as before.  
“And now you look like a street urchin.” He says and you smile at him.  
“That’s the look I was going for.” You answer and he laughs. Then he opens his jacket and pulls out a knife and you freeze to the spot.  
“Oh hush.” He chides. “This isn’t for you.”  
He presses his hand to the glass once more and a door slides open silently.  
“Shall we?” He says and he gestures you in first.

The room is pitch black, but as you enter the lighting flickers and plinks as it turns on. It’s blindingly bright compared to the room outside and you blink and raise your hand to defend your eyes. The God-King pushes you gently into a corner and the door slides shut behind him. Your eyes adjust quickly and as you look around you see another figure sat on the floor with his hand over his head to shade himself. It’s Mr Stark and your gut clenches in dread.  
“Well if it isn’t the Defenestrator General in Chief.” Mr Stark says as he uncrosses his legs and gets up off the floor. He’s wearing nothing but jogging bottoms and his arc reactor glints in his chest. You’ve heard the rumours of course, but you didn’t think it would actually be in his chest, or that it would be so beautiful.  
“Well that’s a new one.” The God-King says, his voice filled with amusement. “You’ve thought hard about it.”  
“Well y’know, I asked for an entertainment system ten days ago, but the service around here is lousy.” Mr Stark shrugs loosely as he moves casually away from his visitor. “A man has to keep himself occupied somehow.”  
He’s frightened and covering it with his bravado. His eyes are slightly too wide, his movements too carefully casual. His eyes don’t even flicker to the knife but remain locked with the God-King’s as he slowly circles in.  
“Nice suit, by the way.” Mr Stark says. “Armani?”  
“Well after you were so scathing last time I thought I’d make the effort.”  
“It looks cheap on you.” Mr Stark shrugs and the God-King laughs. “Sorry, but I have to be honest here.”  
“And I appreciate it.” The God-King steps up suddenly, grabs Mr Stark by the back of the head and forces him up against the wall. He kisses him deeply as he sinks the knife into Mr Stark’s abdomen. The man gives a strangled cry but it isn’t pushed too deep, penetrating muscle, but not enough to reach the organs. 

“No.” You moan, trying to keep quiet, but failing. The God-King pulls away, places Mr Stark’s head on his shoulder and glares at you. You cover your mouth with your hand in apology. The God-King turns his attention back to his captive.  
He gives the man an easy smile.  
“Tony, Tony, Tony.” He says as he pulls out the knife. “Always so glib.” He runs his hand across the wound and you watch it cauterise under his fingers. Mr Stark gives another gasp of pain and the God-King tightens his hand around the other man’s hair.  
“How shall I punish you today, Tony? Do you want to see Ms Potts again? Or shall I use you like I did last time?”  
“Fuck you, Jafar.” Mr Stark wheezes as the knife goes in again.  
“I really do have fun trying to keep up with all your nicknames for me.” The God-King tells him, running the blade up Mr Stark’s stomach so that it leaves a red, shallow line. “The substandard villain from Aladdin, yes?” The tip of the blade reaches the metal casing of the arc reactor and squeals as it moves across the surface. Mr Stark flinches away from the sound. 

The God-King throws him to the floor and Mr Stark hits the concrete with a stifled bark of pain. Your god kicks him hard in the side, flipping the man onto his back and then straddles him. He presses the knife edge against Mr Stark’s throat as he runs his hand over the new wound, closing it as he did the other one. The smell of burnt hair and skin fills the small room and you crouch on the floor, gagging at the stench of it.  
“Gee, if I knew you wanted barbecue I would have phoned ahead.” Mr Stark says through clenched teeth, locking eyes with the God-King again. The god pulls back and hits Mr Stark hard across the face. The man’s head snaps round and the floor is splattered from blood as the blow splits his lip.  
“You haven’t answered the question, Tony.” He hisses.  
“Well you haven’t got on one knee yet.” Mr Stark sits up on one arm and wipes his face. “I mean I’d like to say yes, you’re quite a looker and all, but I’m afraid I’m already in a committed relationship…” The God-King forces him down and pushes the knife all the way through the meat of Mr Stark’s shoulder. Your god hears you whimper as Mr Stark gives a stifled grunt of pain. He glances at you and gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head and you just swallow and blink in acknowledgement.  
“Well, that hurt.” Mr Stark’s voice is strained. “Touched a nerve, Princess?”  
“Trust me, Tony, I’d love to watch you bleed out. But I have better ways of killing you.” The God-King pulls out the knife with a sickening wet sound and puts his hand over Mr Stark’s shoulder so it touches both exits from the wound. He smiles, the skin begins to sizzle and Mr Stark shouts in pain. 

And everything starts to shimmer. The smell of charred flesh disappears to be filled with the smell of heat and dry sand. The brightness dims as the space is filled with the glow of several yellow lightbulbs and the flash of a few halogen lights, positioned away and onto a large metal suit hung from a scaffold of mismatched parts. The God-King pulls back and Mr Stark staggers to his feet looking around him.  
“Shit.” He mutters.

The door bursts open and five men with automatic rifles surround him. Mr Stark glances at the God-King who’s standing off to one side and grimaces as the god raises an eyebrow.  
“On your knees now!” The lead man shouts and Mr Stark does as he says and raises his hands behind his head. But he doesn’t take his gaze from the God-King.  
“This isn’t real.” Mr Stark says.  
“How do you know?” The God-King asks.  
“Well, you weren’t here for starters.”  
“Ah, but that only means the dynamic has changed.” The God-King walks up to the suit. “Imagine if I was the one hired by Stane to kill you, if I was the one who wanted you to build me a Jericho Missile and instead you treated me to a suit design and a power source I could use for all my men?”  
“Loki…”  
“Shoot him in the knee.” The God-King says and one of the guns barks and Mr Stark cries out as his knee cap disappears in a shower of blood. Your god walks around and crouches down in front of him. He caresses the arc reactor and the man flinches away again as if the touch burns. Mr Stark has gone pale in shock.  
“Does it feel real enough for you, Tony?” He asks.  
“What do you want from me, Loki? Why did you keep me alive?” Mr Stark asks, his voice serious and stuttering with pain. “It wasn’t for my charming wits or my good looks, you need me for something.”  
“Maybe I already have what I need from you.” The God-King smiles cruelly and moves his hand over the raw burn mark on Mr Stark’s shoulder. “Tell me, Tony. Would you like some water for your injury?”  
Stark swallows hard.  
“Loki, come on, don’t do this.” Two more men come in carrying a large bucket of water between them. Mr Stark’s arms are pulled behind his back and cuffed tightly together. His ankles are cuffed as well and they drag him to the bucket and force his head under the water. 

You stand, whimpering and moving from foot to foot.  
“Don’t intervene.” He says as Mr Stark struggles against the men holding him down.  
“But you’re going to kill him.”  
“Yes, I am. But don’t intervene.”  
“Why don’t you just tell him what you want?”  
“Child! Enough!” The God-King snarls and you cringe away from him.  
“I’m sorry.” You whisper. “I’m sorry.”  
“Get back on the floor.” He says, his voice calm again and you crouch back down in the sand.

Mr Stark’s head is pulled back up and he heaves with desperate breaths. His eyes are wide with panic and he looks up at the God-King in utter terror. Your god kneels down, caresses the man’s jaw and kisses him chastely on the lips.  
“Whatever you want, I’ll do it, I swear. Loki please…”  
“Shhhhh…” The God-King presses a finger to Mr Stark’s lips. He stands and walks back to the suit, looking it over with interest.  
“Drown him.” He says and Mr Stark’s head is forced back under the water. 

You watch as Mr Stark’s desperate struggles begin to weaken. The men do not relent as his body grows limp, but seem to push his head even deeper into the bucket. Mr Stark gives one final lunge for freedom, his muscles tense as he tries to lift himself off the ground. But he is not a match for the men holding him down and he doesn’t even manage to break the surface. Mr Stark’s body convulses as he takes his first breath and fills his lungs with water. He struggles madly, helplessly and the men force his head down further while the God-King watches impassively. Then Mr Stark’s body grows slack and he slumps forward. The men, the metal suit and the background shimmer away, the bucket is the last to go and Mr Stark’s head falls heavily to the floor. The cuffs vanish and the God-King walks forward and turns Mr Stark onto his back.

“No. Don’t.” You say urgently. “He has to get the water from his lungs.  
“There isn’t any water in his lungs.” The God-King tells you testily. “Look at him, he isn’t even wet.”  
It’s true, his hair is unruly, but it’s perfectly dry and his knee is undamaged.  
“You killed him with an illusion?”  
“He isn’t dead, he only thinks he’s dead.” The God-King lifts Mr Stark in his arms and strokes his hair. “He’ll come around in a minute.” 

Mr Stark gasps and grabs the material of the God-King’s shirt as his body arches in reaction.  
“Welcome back.” The God-King smiles.  
“Huh. Uh, huh. You, you…”  
“Shhhhhh…” He pushes the hair from Mr Stark’s face. He licks his lips and leans down so his mouth is next to Mr Stark’s ear. “How was it for you…?”  
Mr Stark jerks away and crawls backwards on his hands until his back hits the glass wall.  
“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Mr Stark screams as the God-King closes the distance.  
“Was it your first time, Tony?” He puts his head on one side. “Was I a little too rough?”  
Mr Stark runs his hands through his hair and looks at them to check if he’s soaked or not. He frowns.  
“Shit.” He mutters. “Fucking Tinkerbell’s playing with my mind.”  
“Peter Pan by James Barrie. Far superior to the films.”  
“You’ve been doing a Disney omnibus then? Must be hard to find the time with all the kingly duties weighing you down.”  
“I believe they call it time management skills.” The God-King gives a half-smile. He straightens his shirt and checks his tie. “Really, Tony, rumpling my suit – after I went to the effort and everything…”  
“You need help, Nurse Ratched…”  
“Hmmm… I don’t know that one. I’ll have to look it up.” The God-King straightens his cuffs. “Now where were we? Ah, yes…”

Mr Stark is sat on a couch in a large circular room. It’s dusk and the sunlight is disappearing over the sea view from the large floor to ceiling windows. The room is elegant and opulent and has a circular staircase off to one side. It’s a room owned by one of the super-rich and Mr Stark looks around in surprise.  
“Malibu?” He asks. “Why am I in…?”  
There a screech of noise, a high sonic reverberation that makes you cover your ears and bite your lip in pain. It goes on and on and Mr Stark’s body slumps on to the couch and all the veins on one side of his head grow dark. There’s a man standing behind him wearing ear plugs. He’s tall and dressed in a suit shirt and slacks with the collar unbuttoned and the tie missing. A man who’s spent a long day at the office. He has a beard, but his head is bald and in one hand he holds a thick, pen like device that has red lights along the surface. Mr Stark doesn’t take his eyes from the watching God-King. 

The man walks around Mr Stark, he’s talking but the words don’t seem to be part of the memory. You can tell though, from his body language, that he’s being smug and casually threatening. He puts the pen back in his shirt pocket and opens a briefcase. He pulls out a device which he puts on Mr Stark’s chest and removes the arc reactor with a gentle tug. The man stands there, still talking, holding Mr Stark’s life in his hands with just a few wires holding it in place. He gives another sharper tug and the wires come away and Mr Stark gives a muffled snort of fear and pain. The man sits beside Mr Stark for a minute, with his arm over his shoulders, moving the reactor this way and that in the fading light and then stands and puts it carefully in the briefcase. 

Once he’s gone Mr Stark explodes from his seat in desperation and struggles across the floor, stumbling repeatedly until he gets to the elevator. You’re not sure how this is working because the cell is so small, but somehow Mr Stark crosses the space without moving and you all travel down with him as he leans heavily against the elevator wall. He falls into a new room, a work room filled with tables, piled with pieces of half-finished technology. It’s a mess but Mr Stark heads straight to a small side table with a glass trophy box on the top. It has what looks like another arc reactor in it with the words “Proof Tony Stark Has A Heart” written in bold lettering. Mr Stark stumbles again, he falls, he crawls across the room and tries to reach the box, but his strength deserts him and he collapses on the floor.  
“Dummy!” He shouts. “Dummy where are you?”  
A robotic arm on treads starts to make its way across the room, but the God-King gestures and sparks fly from its wiring. There’s the smell of burnt plastic and the robot arm dies.  
“Dummy!” Mr Stark calls again, but his voice is failing. He looks so pale and weak, so very small lying there. He looks off into the distance and slowly his breathing becomes shallower, until it stops all together. 

“Well, that one was interesting.” The God-King says, breaking the spell you were under. You look at him in horror.  
“Why?” You ask as the illusion shimmers away and the cell returns again. “Why are you doing this to him?”  
“I told you child, I’m breaking him. We’ve played games ever since I’ve caught him, but until now he wasn’t ready to feel the full extent of my abilities. I’ve been warming him up to this for days.”  
“But if you told him what you wanted. I’m sure he’d co-operate.”  
The God-King snorts in derision.  
“We’re enemies, child. We might laugh and joke, but we both know the stakes involved.” He walks over to Mr Stark and looks down at the still body. “After this trauma he will respond well to your kindness.”  
“I won’t hurt him.” You say and steel yourself for punishment. But the God-King just looks at you in confusion.  
“I’m not asking you to hurt him. In fact I’m asking precisely the reverse. I’ll stick to the torture – you haven’t the stomach for it, anyway.” His voice makes it clear he finds you lacking and you look down at your shoes in a mixture of revulsion and shame. 

“Ah!” Again Mr Stark’s back arches as he comes back from wherever the God-King had sent him. “Fuck!”  
“And here we are again.” The God-King says leaning over Mr Stark’s prone form.  
“Fuck you, Zebedee.” Mr Stark snarls and sits up clutching his head. “That one was uncalled for.”  
“It seems I’m going to have to kill you again Stark, until you learn to keep a civil tongue in your head.”  
Mr Stark laughs.  
“I think you’d still be trying until the end of time, Mary Whitehouse.”  
“Who’s she?”  
“An old woman in the UK who believed in draconian censorship laws in television.”  
“My that’s quite learned for you, Tony.”  
“Yeah, well, I did used to get around.” Mr Stark winces and gets to his feet.  
“So what now?” He asks. “You bore me to death?”  
“No. I was thinking more along the lines of…”

 _And the cell was filed with stars._  
_And Mr Stark is in his suit in the void._  
_The electrics fail and stutter and the lights blink out in the eyes of his helmet._  
_And Mr Stark begins to fall…_

“Stop!” And Mr Stark’s voice is different now. Terrified.  
“Stop!” He screams, his voice high pitched and raw and the God-King circles him.  
“Loki, please. I’ll do anything. Anything!”  
And the illusion fades and Mr Stark falls to his knees trembling at the God-King’s feet.  
“What do you want?” Mr Stark begs him. “What do you want?”  
The God-Kings smiles at the broken man at his feet.  
“And now I have it.” He says.  
He walks to the door and presses his hand to the wall.  
“He’s all yours.” He says as he walks out into the corridor.  
You stare at the crying man on the floor and you wonder what you’re going to do next.


	12. Truth and Illusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, what’s in the basket, Red?” He asks, crouching down to get at the goodies. You crouch down next to him.  
> “I don’t know. I wasn’t allowed to touch anything.”  
> Mr Stark tries to give you one of the sandwiches, but you don’t take it.  
> “Eat it.”  
> “I’m not allowed, Mr Stark.” You tell him. “And anyway, you need your strength.”  
> “You want to prove you’re not an illusion.” He says. “So eat it.”  
> “Fine.” You take a bite and hand it back. Mr Stark looks at it thoughtfully.  
> “Of course, if you’re in my head and this basket is in my head, you could eat the sandwich and still be an illusion.” He sighs. “So that didn’t really prove anything.”  
> “I guess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where Tony Stark keeps asking awkward questions and Loki continues to be an untrustworthy bastard. 
> 
> Fun fact: Defenestrate means 'to throw through a window'. Just though you'd like to know. It's the only time I'm ever referencing *that* incident in this fan fic, so there you go. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

*

You stand still for a very long time.

In your household Mr Stark had been a saviour, a man to look up to with awe. He was the man who saved your family from being uprooted and left in poverty. When your mum burnt herself badly in work it was Mr Stark’s generous insurance policy which had saved you the medical bills. When your granddad had died there had been no problem for compassionate leave for your entire family. Mr Stark was a hero, the hero, he didn’t just save lives as Iron Man, but just by being himself. 

And now he’s on his hands and knees, gasping, choking and crying and you don’t know what to do.

“Loki…” Mr Stark gasps out, his voice rough and emotional. “Loki?”  
“He’s gone, Mr Stark.” You say quietly.  
He looks up at you and then looks down again and shakes his head.  
“Great, a zombie kid. From one of the warzones…?” He goes quiet and then shakes his head. “Nope, I’ve never seen you before.”  
“I’m from the New York warzone.” You say and he flinches away.  
“Some sort of guilt trip…?” He mutters to himself.  
“He’s gone, Mr Stark. I’m… I’m not an illusion. He took me from the warzone, but it wasn’t your fault. I… I saw you fall, Mr Stark…”  
“You saw me fall?”  
“I saw him catch you.”  
“No.” Mr Stark shakes his head. “No, there was no one else there. Just Steve and me.”  
“I was there, Mr Stark, I was… But the God-King saw me and I was so afraid, I ran…”  
“The God-King?” Mr Stark asks.  
“The God-King Loki.”  
“Right, and now I know you’re an illusion, ‘cause there’s no way anyone real would call him that.”  
You look at your feet and you swallow hard. 

Mr Stark stands unsteadily and leans against one of the glass walls.  
“So, what do you want, Mini Me?” He asks.  
“Oh. Right.” You walk forward. “I was meant to give you this.” You proffer the basket to him. He takes it absently and then looks at your hand instead. He drops the basket grabs your wrist and pulls back your fingers. He’s rough and you give a little cry of fright.  
“Hmmmm. Illusions with emotional responses.” He says to himself.  
“I’m real, Mr Stark.” You say and try to pull your wrist back, but he’s stronger than you and just keeps hold of it. “And you’re hurting me.”  
“And with a guilt trip function.” But his grip slackens a bit. “So what’s this?” He taps the mark on your palm with a questioning finger.  
“It’s what the God-King gave me when we made a deal.”  
“A deal?”  
“An agreement, to keep Hawkeye and Black Widow alive.”  
“They’re alive?” Mr Stark asks, but he only has eyes for the mark. He starts to trace it on your palm and it tickles. You try to close your hand on instinct but Mr Stark just pries your fingers open again.  
“Hawkeye’s been taken over by the sceptre, but yeah, he’s alive. I don’t know about Black Widow, she was taken away on a prison ship.” You consider. “But if she was dead I think I’d know.”  
“How?” Mr Stark asks and you don’t know how to respond.  
“I don’t know, Mr Stark.” You reply.  
“Well I’d ask after her, make sure.”  
“Maybe I will.” You shift uncomfortably. “When the God-King’s in a good mood.”  
Mr Stark looks at you intently. 

“He’s names Loki.” He says.  
“I know.” You look at your feet but he catches your chin and lifts your head up.  
“Hey. Repeat it after me: His name is Loki.”  
“His name is Loki.” You repeat and bite your lip in fear. Your heart starts to hammer just at the idea of calling him by his name. “But you don’t understand Mr Stark, I have to keep him happy and if I call him by his name…” You try to look away but Mr Stark is still holding your chin and you can’t do anything but move your eyes. You glance around the room and then back into his face. “He’d punish me, Mr Stark.”  
“And my name is Tony.”  
“Huh. No way. I’m not calling you that.” You can almost feel your dad’s disapproval at being so familiar with the head of Stark Industries. “Sorry, Mr Stark.”  
“We’ll work on it.” He looks back at your hand, lets go of your chin and taps the metal part of the design hard. It hurts far more than you expect and you give a small hiss of pain.  
“It’s sensitive?” He asks.  
“Not sensitive, but that felt weird. It hurts underneath.” You frown. “But more like a pulling sensation, like a sticking plaster over a deep cut…?” You’re not sure if it’s an accurate description. Mr Stark catches the edge of the metal and tries to lift it with a finger nail and you yelp in pain.  
“Okay, that’s definitely on there.” He says. “Does the rest of it hurt?”  
“No.” You say as he runs his fingers over the burnt-in design.  
“Is it numb?”  
“No. Just feels like the rest of my hand.”  
“And you say Loki gave this to you?”  
“He burned it on there.”  
“How?”  
“He took my hand like this.” You reach out and clasp your free hand with Mr Stark’s. “And then it started to burn and the light was really bright.”  
“Like he was branding you?”  
“Yeah, like that.”  
Mr Stark nods and you can see his brain working. 

“What about this?” He taps the collar with the back of his index finger and you flinch away. “Sorry.”  
He smiles and you smile timidly back.  
“He gave it to me.”  
“Loki?”  
“Yes. My first piece of permanent clothing.”  
Mr Stark looks at you funny and you sigh.  
“The rest of it is an illusion.” You tell him. “He threw my real clothes away.”  
Mr Stark pulls at the t-shirt.  
“Feels real enough.”  
“I know, weird right?” You shrug. “That he can’t make people illusions solid, but he can do it to clothes. I mean, how does that even work?”  
“You’ve seen him cast illusions?”  
“Yeah, he followed me around for ages as one of them. I though he was real, but my hand went through it really easy.”  
“But if you’re in my head, then the illusion can be as real as anything else. Which explains why you’re solid.”  
“I’m not an illusion, Mr Stark.” You repeat patiently.  
“Sure, you’re not.” He says unconvincingly.

“So, what’s in the basket, Red?” He asks, crouching down to get at the goodies. You crouch down next to him.  
“I don’t know. I wasn’t allowed to touch anything.”  
Mr Stark tries to give you one of the sandwiches, but you don’t take it.  
“Eat it.”  
“I’m not allowed, Mr Stark.” You tell him. “And anyway, you need your strength.”  
“You want to prove you’re not an illusion.” He says. “So eat it.”  
“Fine.” You take a bite and hand it back. Mr Stark looks at it thoughtfully.  
“Of course, if you’re in my head and this basket is in my head, you could eat the sandwich and still be an illusion.” He sighs. “So that didn’t really prove anything.”  
“I guess.”  
“You eaten any illusionary food yet?” He asks.  
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” Did Asgard count? You’re not sure.  
“Well watch out for it, it has no calorie content at all. Loki starved me for my first three days using that ploy.”  
“Oh.” You look at the basket. “So if you feel full then you know that the food isn’t illusionary?”  
“If I use the bathroom, I know it isn’t illusionary. Being full can be faked as well.”  
“So when you need the toilet later, you’ll know that I’m real.” You look around. “Where is the toilet here?” Mr Stark points to a hole in the ground off in the opposite corner to the door. “Oh. That’s grim.”  
“Yep.” He agrees. “But you get used to it.” He considers. “Sort of.” 

You both sit back on the floor while Mr Stark starts to eat. He gives you back the sandwich you’ve bitten into and you finish it off. Then he shares one of the bottled drinks with you and watches you carefully while you take a mouthful.  
“Huh.” He says, seemingly satisfied and then goes back to eating. He eats everything in the basket quickly and drinks everything but a single bottle of water, which he takes and puts in a corner out of the way. He comes back and sits down opposite you with his leg sprawled out comfortably and one arm propping him up.

“So, kid. Convince me of your solidity. What’s your name?”  
“It’s…” You go to answer and you draw a blank. “Uh…” You search some more but nothing is forth coming. Your stomach falls away as you realise why.  
“He took it…” You whisper in horror.  
“What?”  
“The God-King. He entered my mind and he took something. I didn’t know what until now. He… He took my name away.”  
“Okay…” Mr Stark says slowly. “That was… Unexpected.” He bites his bottom lip in thought. “So what else can you tell me? Where do you come from?”  
“Here. Um, New York. Born and raised.”  
“Where did you live?”  
“Howard Apartments.” You say and Mr Stark puts his head on one side in surprise. “Yeah, uh, you hired my mum and dad.”  
“And where are they?”  
“Dead.”  
“Oh.” Mr Stark looks contrite. “I’m sorry.”  
“It’s okay, these things… They happen right? In war I mean…” You swallow hard and force the tears back.  
“It’s not okay.” Mr Stark says very seriously. “I’ve been to war zones all over the world and it’s never okay.”  
“Ummmm…” You look away. 

“Hey.” Mr Stark takes your chin again, but this time he’s gentle. “You’re allowed to grieve.”  
You look at him and you feel your eyes getting wet. But you blink them away.  
“No I can’t, not yet. I can’t… I can’t be weak, he’d eat me alive.”  
“Loki?”  
“I’m only just keeping him happy as it is. He nearly killed me this morning and if he thinks I’m getting too emotional… He doesn’t need a panicking child and he certainly doesn’t need an emotional one… I’m sorry…” You stand to run for the door. “I’m sorry…”  
“Hey.” Mr Stark stands, catches your arm and before you can do anything, pulls you into a hug. And then you can’t hold the tears back anymore and you’re sobbing against his chest.  
“Did he kill them? Did Loki kill them?” He asks urgently.  
“No. No. It was an accident.” And then you’re telling him everything. About your parents coming home, about the radio message, about the Chitauri ship coming through the wall. You tell him about running for help, going to Stark Tower, seeing him going up into the void – seeing him fall. And then you can’t say anything else and you just cry and cry and cry. 

Mr Stark holds you until you’ve cried yourself out and then you pull away. You take off your t-shirt and use it to clean up.  
“I’m sorry.” You mutter, your voice rough.  
“Don’t be.” Mr Stark says, but he’s looking at you strangely.  
“You’re thinking that if I’m an illusion then I’m well made, right?” You say, almost angrily. “Coming in here, giving you a puzzle to solve and then crying in your arms. Knowing all this shit about you and having parents that worked for you and...” You shake your head. “Here.” You pass him the t-shirt. “I’ve gunked you up.”  
Mr Stark takes the t-shirt and cleans up his chest without comment.  
“Well you seem real enough.” He agrees.  
“Thanks.” You say sarcastically. “I’m glad you think that. Give me my t-shirt back.” You take it and put it back on. It might be disgusting, but you don’t want to be naked. Not ever. 

“The God-King left you some tech in the basket as well. He wouldn’t let me touch it, said it was a present for you.”  
“Well that’s worrying.” Mr Stark walks back to the basket, picks it up by the handle and carries it back. He squints at the piece of technology in suspicion. It’s a circle about two inches thick and completely smooth on both sides.  
“Any idea what it is?” He asks.  
“None. But I’m guessing The God King…” You exchange a look and you sigh. “…Loki, wouldn’t have done all that stuff to you if he was planning to give you a grenade or something.”  
“True.” Mr Stark picks it up and it gives a little chirrup and flashes green. He almost drops it, but manages to stop himself, juggling it from hand to hand for a moment. He lifts it up to eye level and looks at it closely. The sides are rippling and changing in his hand.  
“It’s vibrating.” He says. “And it looks like it has some sort of dial, or code or something on the side…” He turns it over. “Weird runic script… Doesn’t look like a sentence, more like an encryption of some sort…” His eyes glaze slightly as if he’s deep in concentration.  
“Mr Stark?”  
“Uh, yeah?” He looks up as if he’s surprised you’re still there.  
“Look, I’m… I’m just going to go, if that’s okay with you? I’m not feeling so good…” Your stomach’s churning from your emotional excesses and you just can’t stand the idea of waiting around any longer. You want to go home, curl up on the carpet and have some time to think about things. Home, huh. A week or so ago, that meant Howard Apartments. Now it meant a square of floor where you’re allowed to sleep. How did that change so quickly?  
“Yeah sure.” Mr Stark raises a hand in farewell, even as his eyes are drawn back to the circle of metal in his hands. “Feel free to drop by anytime.”  
“I’ll probably see you tomorrow.”  
“Really?” Mr Stark sounds surprised and you know he never expected to see you again. “Well sure, whatever.”  
You shake your head as you put your palm against the glass panel and walk through the opening door. 

“How did it go?”  
You almost jump out of your skin as the God-King lounges against the wall.  
“It went well… I think. He still thinks I’m an illusion, but we bonded… Kind of…” You rub the back of your head and sigh.  
“You cried again, didn’t you?” The God-King says and wrinkles his nose. “And ruined your t-shirt.”  
“He’s busy with the tech thing you gave him.” You say to stall him. You just don’t want to go there. “I figured I wasn’t going to get anything else out of him tonight, so I left.”  
“Good. Put your hand against the door and repeat after me…”  
You do as he says and frown in concentration at the weird syllables he makes you repeat.  
“That’ll stop the lights going out. If Tony’s occupied then he won’t sleep anyway, but he might need the light source.”  
“You’re a hologram, aren’t you? That’s why you needed me to do that.”  
“Such a clever child.” He says sarcastically. “You really think I’d wait around in a corridor for you in person?”  
“No. I didn’t.” You agree  
“Come on, lunch is being served and I wouldn’t want you to starve.”  
“Sounds good.” You nod and follow him towards the stairs. 

As you go down the flights you can’t help but keep glancing at him. You want to talk, but you’re too afraid.  
“What is it?” He asks eventually as you reach the half way point.  
“Promise you won’t hurt me.” You say quickly. The God-King smiles.  
“I’ll do no such thing.”  
“Then… It doesn’t matter.” You go to start the next flight, but he catches your shoulder and presses you carefully against the wall.  
“How about I promise to hurt you if you don’t say what’s on your mind?” He asks calmly.  
You close your eyes and steel yourself. You don’t want to say anything, you’d rather suffer a little pain than risk his real anger. But then it starts and you just can’t take it.  
“You took my name!” You blurt it out.  
He looks at you in surprise.  
“When you mind raped me, you took my name!” You shove him in the chest, wanting to get away from him and his hands close around your shoulders warningly. You wince as his fingers tighten enough to bruise.  
“Don’t.” You plead quietly. “Please don’t.” He looks at you without any pity and you think he’s about to make it worse. Then he decides against it, nods once and relaxes his grip.  
“Thank you.” You whisper. He lets you go completely and you both start to descend the stairs again.

“You worked it out quickly.” He says after a couple of steps. “How did you find out?”  
“Mr Stark asked me.”  
“And you put two and two together?”  
“Yes.”  
“You don’t think it could just be the stress you’re under?” He asks and your consider it and then shake your head.  
“It’s gone. It’s all gone and I can feel the blankness, and it was where you were in my head.”  
“You can tell all that?” He asks.  
“Why don’t you just admit it? I know it’s what you took. I don’t suspect, I know.”  
He goes quiet for a short while. 

“I took your name.” He says, without looking at you.  
“Why?”  
“Because you didn’t need it anymore. To teach you a lesson about trust. To see if you missed it. Just a bit of fun really.” He shrugs.  
“A bit of fun.” Your voice is blank.  
“And to see if you could defend yourself. You didn’t do too badly, for an amateur.” He smiles. “For a mortal.”  
“You were going to take everything. I had to let you in, I had no choice.” You look at your shoes, trying to stop yourself exploding at him. You’re filtering your thoughts madly, if you piss him off he’ll kill you for sure this time.  
“And you worked that out very quickly. I didn’t even need to start cutting.”  
You glare up at him and just manage to bite back a tart rejoinder.  
“Oooooo.” The God-King smiles mockingly. “That was an angry moment. Well done for keeping it in check.”  
You look away and fume silently. 

“So.” The God-King says as you reach the bottom and walk out into the corridor. “What are you going to do about it, now that you know?”  
“What can I do? You’re never going to tell me and anyone who knew is dead.” You sigh. “Or somewhere in your pens and I’ll never see them again.”  
“Is your name so important?” He asks  
“Is your name important?” You reply, keeping your tone neutral. “If you didn’t know your own name, wouldn’t that hurt?”  
“You know what pain is, child.”  
“Physical pain, sure. The pain of betrayal… I didn’t know that until you came along.”  
“Then I gave you an important lesson.” He says sincerely.  
“You’re messed up, you know that?” You ask and he gives you a warning look.  
“No. **You** are naïve.” He says archly.  
“What about all that stuff about having an idyllic childhood?” You know you’re pushing him, but you can’t let him win, not just yet.  
“War changes things, child.” He says. “You need to grow up quickly or you will die.”  
“Are you going to kill me?” You ask without much emotion. “When you get bored of me, am I going to die?”  
He catches your hand and squeezes it reassuringly as you enter the apartment.  
“I don’t think I’ll ever get bored of you, child. You’re full of surprises.” He looks down at you, interlacing his fingers with yours. “But if I do, I’ll give you fair warning, so you can find a new way to entertain me.” 

You look at the hand.  
“You… You complete…” You almost swear but stop yourself at the last minute.  
“Yes?” His lips twitch in amusement.  
“You’re not a hologram!” You say accusingly and he laughs.  
“Took you long enough.”  
“But you said…”  
“I had business with the Chitauri, I finished early and so I swung by, just in case.” He grins. “I knew Tony wouldn’t keep you around for long. Not as soon as he activated my new toy.”  
You just look at him, completely lost for words.  
“I can’t trust you at all, can I?” You say eventually.  
“And so my lesson is reinforced.” He says playfully.  
“I want to see Black Widow.” You snap before you can stop yourself.  
“What?” He blinks as he looks down at you.  
“I want to see her. I want to know she’s alive.”  
“My my, how demanding.” He says sarcastically as you enter the kitchen. The servants are making a cooked lunch, some sort of spaghetti dish and your stomach rumbles loudly.  
“I’m within my rights to ask.” You say defensively.  
“And I’m within my rights to beat you bloody for making demands of me.”  
You glare up at him and he looks back, but his eyes are amused, so you don’t back down.  
“Let me see her.” You say calmly. “Please, Majesty.”  
“And now you want something, you use my proper title.” He lets go of your hand and gestures you to sit on a chair at the dining table. It’s by the window and has a good view of New York, though half the sky is covered by the void and two Chitauri ships hover in the distance.  
“You want me to jump through hoops? Fine, put them up and watch me jump.” You say shrugging. “But I need to know she’s alive.”  
“She’s alive, but she’s being interrogated. When they’re done she’ll be brought here.”  
“When?”  
“When they’re done.” The God-King shrugs.  
“Who are they?” You ask.  
“HYDRA.” He says the word like you’re supposed to know what it means.  
“Like the mythical creature?”  
“Probably. They don’t have enough imagination to come up with one of their own, I suppose.”  
“And they won’t kill her?”  
“No. They are working with me because they want the power and technology I can provide them. They aren’t ready to cross me yet.”  
“You say that like you’re expecting it.”  
“Oh, I am.” The God-King shrugs. “It is their world after all and they are hardly trustworthy.”  
“People after your own heart?” You ask, smiling sardonically.  
“Absolutely.” His grin is feral and his eyes narrow in a mild threat. “Now eat your lunch and shut up, there’s a dear.”  
“As you wish, Majesty.” You bow your head in compliance.

You eat your fill, but the servants have made far too much for you. The God-King has the same amount and eats it all, you suppose there might be a difference in metabolism between your race and his.  
“You were hungry.” You say quietly and he glances down at the plate.  
“I eat like a sparrow compared to most Asgardians. And didn’t I tell you to be quiet?”  
“I’m sorry, Majesty.” You look contrite.  
“We’ve eaten, I’ll allow it.” He says grudgingly. The servants go to remove the plates, but he stops them taking yours.  
“Go wake Patrick and give it to him. Then tell him I’m waiting for him in the lounge.”  
“After he’s eaten?”  
“I think once you tell him, he might lose his appetite.” The God-Kings says and you nod in agreement. 

“What do you want me to do while you’re… Um… Occupied?” You can’t meet his gaze.  
“I think the spell will be wearing of soon. It should have lasted all day, but you’re too weak to keep it going.” He gives you a critical look. “Yes, it’s beginning to flag already.”  
“Can’t you, I don’t know, boost it?” You ask hopefully. You don’t want to be as physically helpless as you were this morning.  
“Your body couldn’t take it.” The God-King shakes his head. “You’ve been through too much recently, you need to rest and recuperate.”  
“Are you going to make me watch?” You ask quietly, looking down at the floor.  
“Have a shower, clean yourself up and then get some sleep in my bed. You’ve earned a reprieve for your insight today.”  
“Um…”  
“I promise I won’t use it until tonight.” He smiles at your uncertainty. “And then, if you’re still sleeping, I’ll turf you out to sleep by the door.”  
“Okay.” You can’t hide your relief.  
“Come here, child.” The God-King says and you slip out of the chair to walk up next to him. He takes your head in his hand and forces you to make eye contact.  
“I’ve been stringing you along for a while now and it isn’t really becoming for a king to be so cruel to one as young and as emotionally immature as you are.” He catches your hand and twines his fingers with yours. “I promise, I will never rape you.” He says sincerely. “Not even as punishment.”  
You almost burst into tears.  
“You promise?” You ask in a breaking voice.  
“You have my word as your god and as your king.”  
“Thank you!” You say it forcefully and his smile is gentle. He pulls you onto his lap, strokes your hair and kisses the top of your head.  
“Of course, I won’t promise to be kind. There are many more inventive punishments I could use.” He says and you press your head against his shoulder.  
“I know.” You say. “But that one scared me the most.”  
“You don’t have much imagination.” He chides and kisses you again. He lets you go and gestures you to your feet.  
“Now go and feed Patrick.” His voice is cold and business-like again.  
“Yes, Majesty.” You pick up the plate and head for the bedroom. 

“Whuz-at?” Patrick mutters as you shake his shoulder. He turns over and starts to snore again. You don’t have time for this, so you get on the bed and kick him hard in the ribs.  
“Ow!” Patrick sits straight up in bed. He glares at you. “You little shit, what did you do that for?”  
“Lunch.” You say succinctly and pass him the plate.  
“You got anything to drink?” He asks as he digs in and you shrug.  
“I’ll go get something.” You head back to the kitchen.

You ignore the God-King’s questioning expression as you get a glass, fill it at the sink and head back to the bedroom. You roll your eyes at him and he nods in agreement and goes back to reading a manila folder he has open on the table.  
“Water?” Patrick asks in disgust.  
“Just drink it and shut up.” You snap.  
“Ouch.” He leers at you. “Who pissed in your cornflakes today?”  
“The God-King at the crack of dawn this morning.” You glance at the clock. “Now it’s three p.m., so don’t give me any back-chat.”  
Patrick grabs your wrist and you gasp in pain.  
“I should kick your ass half way across the room.” He says, his voice low and threatening.  
“Because that worked out so well for your dad.” You snarl. You’re mad. You’re tired, you’re in pain, you’re emotionally drained and you are not going to take any crap from a man who was allowed to sleep half the day.  
“You what?” He asks in that same threatening tone.  
“You heard me.” You growl back. “Now let me go and eat what you’re given.”  
Patrick grumbles, but he releases you and goes back to eating. You wait for him to finish and then take the plate off him.  
“Oh, and the God-King wants you in the lounge.” You say as you are about to walk through the door. “I wouldn’t keep him waiting.” 

You go back into the kitchen and give the plate to the servants who have just started washing up. The God-King closes the folder with a snap.  
“Is he ready?” He asks. You take a deep breath to still your anger.  
“He knows you’re waiting, Majesty.” You address him calmly and politely.  
“Good.”  
“I’m going for my shower now.”  
“Take your time. And you can use the shampoo.”  
You stop and look at him.  
“You’ve earned it.” He says with a nod of approval. “Just for today.”  
“Thank you, Majesty.” 

You do take your time, marvelling in the warmth of the water and the froth of the shampoo. You wash your hair twice, just for the feeling of it. You step out of the shower, dry yourself off and then notice that your clothing has changed.  
“Green flannel pyjamas? Really? What am I, five?” You mutter, but you put them on.  
When you walk out into the lounge the God-King is sitting on the couch with his legs spread and Patrick is between them. You deliberately don’t look and hurry into the bedroom. The bed is a mess and you take the time to make it before getting in. By then you can feel the magic leaving your body and your muscles start to shake from the exertion of standing upright. You crawl into bed, pull the covers over your head and let yourself drift. 

You don’t remember falling asleep, but it’s dark when the God-King wakes you. When it becomes apparent that you’re still too weak to move, he gets in the bed and curls up around you protectively. For a moment you panic, but he catches your head and presses it against his shoulder while making soft, comforting noises and you relax against him. You dimly wonder where Patrick is. The God-Kings strokes your hair and kisses you on the cheek.  
“Goodnight, child.” He whispers.  
You know you should be frightened, that he’s going back on his word, that you should be sleeping by the door. But you’re exhausted and the covers are warm and his grasp is comforting. Despite your better judgement you quickly slip back into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Loki just being sweet? Or does he have an ulterior motive?
> 
> He did promise right?
> 
> Once again, comments are greatly appreciated, you wonderful people. :)


	13. Dust and Thread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What?” He frowns and shakes his head. You continue to stroke his cheek and you see the moment of recognition in his face.  
> “Ha. It was just a dream.” His voice is heavy with relief. “I thought…” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.” He lowers his fist and catches your hand, curling his fingers around your own. He looks you up and down.  
> “Well, aren’t you a pretty picture.” He says sardonically. “All soft and sweet and helpless.”  
> You tense against him and he laughs mockingly.  
> “I can feel your rapid breath against my palm.” He tells you and leans forward. “I can feel your terror.” He licks his lips. “And it feels good against my skin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is quite a short chapter, but I won't have time to write tomorrow (darn parental visits. :P) and I wanted to give you an update. 
> 
> The next chapter will be short as well, about the same length as this one. They were meant to be one chapter, the first half Loki and the second half Tony Stark, but time constraints have forced me to break it into two. So today you get Loki in all his cruel, sorcerous splendor and no Tony...
> 
> But it gives us all something to look forward to. :)  
> As always - Enjoy.

*

You jerk awake from a sharp pain in your side. For a long moment, you can’t work out where you are. You think you’re home in bed but the lights are wrong and the smells are wrong and the mattress is different to the cheap one you slept on in your bedroom. The springs don’t plink in warning and dig in as you shift around. You’re lying on your back and you can’t move very much. You can’t feel your legs properly, the muscles are numb as if you’ve worked them too hard and your back aches and complains. You groan in self-pity and then gasp as the pain comes again. You reach down and feel a hand against your side, the fingers spread and clutching your waist. As you touch it, it spasms again and the nails dig in hard.  
“Ow.” You yelp and try to pull away, but the grip is strong. Too strong. And then you remember: You’re in bed with the God-King.

The panic hits you hard and your heart starts to hammer in your chest. You reach down with both hands and try to pry the fingers away. The God-King mutters in his sleep and rolls over and suddenly you’re free. You lift yourself onto your elbows and try to bend your knees, but your legs won’t respond. They’re just too tired. Your arms shake underneath you just from the effort of keeping you up and so you sink back down and consider your options. You don’t have many at all. You’re considering rolling yourself off the bed and crawling to your spot outside the door when the God-King turns back to you. 

He’s having a nightmare, his eyes are flickering violently behind the lids and his hand comes up, takes the edge of your pillow and splits the seam it grips it so hard. Before you can move it comes down and latches onto your upper arm. The fingers bruise your skin black in moments and just as the bone and muscle creaks under the strain it slackens and the God-King pulls you into his embrace. You put out your forearm and catch yourself against his chest. In an effort of self-preservation you start to stroke his hair, crooning softly.  
“There there.” You whisper, trying to keep the urgency out of you voice. “There there.”  
His other arm snakes around your waist and he turns onto his back, pressing you against his side.  
“No.” He murmurs softly. “No. I won’t do it.”  
His body arches and his legs tangle with yours as you try to save yourself. Then he turns away, releasing you completely and goes still. 

You lie in bed breathing heavily and the God-King begins to mutter quietly, punctuated by the occasional whimper. You look at his back and see the sharp white scars against the pale skin. At some point in his life, someone has taken a knife to him and you feel your stomach lurch with conflicting emotion. You can’t pity him, he’s murdered thousands and yet, right now, he seems so vulnerable. You reach out, not really considering until it’s too late, until your fingers are tracing the curving patterns on his spine. His skin is cool to the touch.  
“No!” The God-King arches away from you, hissing in fear. And you feel your jaw working as a wave of sympathy runs through you. Are you mad? Only twenty four hours ago he had you curled on the kitchen floor as he tortured you to near death. You can’t move because of what he did, pushing you beyond all reasonable endurance, your legs barely work because of what he did to you. And yet, and yet… You’re only human...  


You shake your head.  
You clench your jaw.  
You will not show him pity.

He would not want it…  
He would see it as weakness.  
He would despise you for it. 

You are gathering you strength to get off the bed when he moves again. You don’t get a chance to scream before his eyes snap open and he grabs you around the mouth, the webbing between thumb and forefinger digging in hard and his palm covering you lips. He’s too quick to counter, even if you weren’t sluggish and exhausted you would not have reacted in time. Then he’s on top of you, his other fist raised, his knees holding your hips down tightly. His eyes are glazed and you can tell he’s not thinking straight. That he’s not yet fully awake. You squirm and he just cinches his hold on you until you can’t move your body at all. So you reach up and gently stroke his cheek. He flinches from the touch and then stills as you continue to run your fingertips over his jawline and then back up. You keep you movements slow and after a moment he starts to blink rapidly. His eyes focus on you properly for the first time.  
“What?” He frowns and shakes his head. You continue to stroke his cheek and you see the moment of recognition in his face.  
“Ha. It was just a dream.” His voice is heavy with relief. “I thought…” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.” He lowers his fist and catches your hand, curling his fingers around your own. He looks you up and down.  
“Well, aren’t you a pretty picture.” He says sardonically. “All soft and sweet and helpless.”  
You tense against him and he laughs mockingly.  
“I can feel your rapid breath against my palm.” He tells you and leans forward. “I can feel your terror.” He licks his lips. “And it feels good against my skin.” 

You shift again, but his knees are hard against either side of your pelvis and his weight pins you to the mattress. If you weren’t laughably weak, you still wouldn’t be able to do anything to dislodge him. So you decide to conserve what little strength you have left and you allow your body to relax. Your eyes search his for any indication of what he’s about to do.  
“Oh, you’re a clever child.” He whispers and nuzzles your neck. “You know when to give in.” He nips at your jugular playfully and you give a little whine of fear. “Patrick still hasn’t learned that lesson. You’d think someone with such a thug for a father would know when to call Uncle.” He grazes this teeth against your throat.  
“Do you want to beg me?” He asks as if the thought has just occurred to him. “Would you like me to remove my hand?”  
He lifts his head to look in your eyes. You hiss behind his palm and narrow your gaze to show your feelings. You will not beg him, no matter what he does. You won’t give him the pleasure.  
“You’re a brave little thing aren’t you?” He smiles. “I could close my hand, tear your cheeks open and crush every tooth in your skull.” He moves his head to one side. “And then I could rip your jaw from your face.”  
You just look at him steadily. If he’s going to do it, he will, if not then not. There’s nothing you can do. You wish you could steady your breathing, could stop the hammering of your heart – Could master your crippling fear. His eyes search your face and you wonder what he’s looking for. 

“Should I keep my word, do you think?” He asks you. “What I said last afternoon, should I abide by it?” He runs his tongue over his lips. “Or should I flip you over and remove your clothes with a click of my fingers?” He raises his hand, index finger and thumb poised.  
“I can feel your breath quickening.” His smile is awful. A mask of mocking cruelty. “You’re so terribly afraid.” He leans forward until his face is almost touching your own.  
“What can you do to stop me?” He whispers and kisses you gently on the nose. You tense again, trying to find a point of leverage, a weak point in his hold on you, anything, anything at all. He feels you testing him and he chuckles.  
“You cannot trust me, child. I have shown you that truth over and over again and yet you came to my bed willingly. I will flip you onto your stomach and lean hard on the back of your head. I will smother you into the pillow and I will take my pleasure from your body.”  
And you bite him, hard, in the soft part of his hand as it rests against your teeth. 

“Ow you little…” He raises the hand he had around your mouth to strike you and you take that moment to speak.  
“Stop it.” You snap. “Just stop it.”  
He lowers his hand, momentarily confused and you press on.  
“You had a nightmare, Majesty, a terrible, awful nightmare. You have my sympathy, but you have no right to take your fears out on me.”  
He pulls back, his eyes searching yours, his face a picture of conflicting emotion. Then he strikes you back-handed across the face and glares down at you as if expecting you to react. So you don’t – You wait instead, knowing that you can’t say anything else. Either your words will sway him or he will make good on his threat, you’ve done all you can to shame him. He puts a hand either side of your head, palms flat against the covers and lifts his weight off your body.  
“Get out.” He says quietly.  
Your legs are suddenly agreeable and you slide out from under him and flee from the room. You’ve barely made it into the lounge before your knees are jelly again. You reach the far connecting kitchen wall and sink down to the floor with your back hard against the painted plaster, panting with relief. 

You watch the clock on the wall, unable to move and with your mind whirling. The tick helps you get a handle on it. It sounds like a heart beat, the soft continual sound, leading your mind out of the frightening madness. Ten minute pass before the bedroom door moves and the God-King walks out into the lounge.  
“Well, you didn’t get far.” He says as he closes the door behind him.  
“Funny story. I keep getting knocked around by this guy twice my size, when I should be resting and recuperating from a major complication in my surgery.”  
“That’s terrible. Have you considered putting in a complaint?” He asks as he walks towards you.  
“Well, he’s pretty high up the chain of command, so...” You shrug. “There’s not much that can be done about it.” He walks past you and towards the kitchen.  
“Do you want some breakfast?” He asks.  
“No.” You say and your stomach whines in complaint.  
“Are you sure?” He smiles down at you.  
“Maybe a little.” You concede. “But hold the magic.”  
“Consider it done.” And he walks out of the room.

There’s the sound of pans and plates being moved around and then the divine smell of cooking. Your stomach tightens painfully as you concentrate on the ticking again. Focus on the noise, keep your mind together, keep your wits about you. Give him what he wants, without fully giving into him. If you let him break you, you will die. If you push back too hard, he will kill you. It’s a near impossible balance to maintain – but what choice do you have? 

He comes back in with a large tray. He sits down on the carpet and puts it between you. Two plates of toast and scrambled eggs, a cafetiere of coffee and a glass of orange juice.  
“Everything a young body needs.” He says, lifting a plate and putting it on your lap. He gives you a knife and fork and pours the coffee, adding milk and sugar as you like it.  
“You made this?” You ask and take a mouthful of egg. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. “This is really good!”  
“I have been known to cook on occasion and I couldn’t be bothered sending for the servants.”  
“A man with hidden talents.” You say, quoting your mum without really thinking about it.  
“I’m not a man.”  
“No, right, sorry Majesty.” You incline your head to him.  
“Apology accepted.” He takes the second plate and starts to eat. You know to keep your mouth shut during meal times, so you just concentrate on the food in front of you. Once the plates are empty the God-King picks up his coffee and cradles it thoughtfully.

“I was only going to smother you.” He says, taking a sip. “I was not going to go through with the rape. I only wished to scare you.”  
“You already scare me.” You answer and take your own cup.  
“I know. And you were right. I was only hurting you because my dreams disturbed me.”  
“Apology accepted.” You say and he smiles at you. “But would it be so difficult to keep your word, just once?”  
“Words are dust, little one and promises are even less than that. A thin thread, easily broken.”  
You raise your hand.  
“And this, is this nothing? Is it just a meaningless symbol? Did you lie, is Black Widow dead?”  
“I didn’t lie, she’s alive and that is the first bargain I have made in this Realm that I intend to keep.” He reaches out and touches the metal on your palm and it tingles strangely. “I bound us by magic. It makes the oath much harder to break.”  
“Why did you do it?” You ask.  
“Because you strove, with so much determination, to make a conditional bargain with me. It was sweet, watching you try, so I gave you what you wanted.” His hands trace the curved Celtic lines and you feel the tingle travel half way down your arm. “And I was curious to see how it would develop, if you were strong enough and clever enough to survive.”  
“Am I?”  
“We will see, but you’re doing well.” He glances at you, gives you an encouraging smile and puts his hand back around his mug.

“You would have killed me.”  
“What?”  
“If you’d smothered me, you would have killed me. I’m finding it hard to breathe as it is.”  
He looks at you, his lips pursed as he considers.  
“I’m trying to be what you want. I’m trying to be strong and I’m trying to learn, but I mean… Look at this…” You pull down your sleeve and show him the scar on your right arm. “This is not something I can get over in a day. I don’t know how you heal on your world, but I need time.”  
“Well, if you think you are too weak…” He starts, his voice condescending.  
“No. I’m strong – you know I am. Dr Bridges told you that I shouldn’t have pulled through. The infection should have killed me, but it didn’t. I’ve got a great constitution. But the human body can only take so much and I’m already way over my limit.” You sigh. “You don’t want me dead, if you did it wouldn’t take much to make it happen. I mean, even if you weren’t some crazy Asgardian knife assassin and I was at my peak, you’re older, you’re bigger and you’re heavier. I can’t fight you and if you keep pushing me the way you are, one day real soon I just won’t wake up.”  
“It’s a racial difference.” He says, it’s a statement, not a question.  
“Absolutely.”  
“I’ll keep it in mind.” He sips his coffee and then he pauses.  
“Asgardian knife assassin?” He asks.  
“I think it’s pretty accurate.” You say firmly, but you don’t make eye contact.  
“I kill in battle, child. Maybe not face to face, but I do not skulk in shadows and kill my quarry in their sleep.”  
“Why not?”  
“It would be dishonourable.”  
“So you do have some morals then?” You ask and he looks surprised. His face flickers through several unidentifiable emotions and then he smiles broadly.  
“I suppose I do.” He agrees. 

You finish you coffee and move on to the orange juice.  
“So what happens now?” You ask, overly casual.  
“Several things.” The God-King takes the juice from you and puts it back on the tray. He grabs your wrist and places his fingers on the metal on your palm in a decisive gesture. The metal begins to glow and the heat flows down your arm.  
“I, Loki, Prince of Asgard, God and King of the Realm of Midgard and Absoluter Ruler of her people adds this addition to the oath we both share.” He eyes lock on to yours as you stare at him, absolutely frozen to the spot. “I will not physically rape, nor sexually assault this child under my care. I will see to its needs, make sure it is fed and I will respect the differences in the biology between our two races. I will do my utmost not to kill it either by accident or through neglect. In return I expect this child to be strong, to be clever and not to disappoint me. If they try to abuse my goodwill I will destroy them utterly as is my right as their owner and master and I will be allowed to destroy those they seek to protect – for their pact with me shall be broken. This I vow, as is my birth-right.” He moves his head to the side, his face sharp and serious.  
“Do you agree to this, child?” He asks and you swallow hard and bite your lip. But you can’t look away.  
“I agree.” You say in the firmest voice you can manage. “I will be strong and clever and I will not abuse your goodwill. But you will remember I am but a child and children make mistakes. You will teach me how to survive in this new world I do not understand and you will give me the benefit of the doubt when no other evidence presents itself against me. You are my God, you are my King and I will do my utmost to make you proud of me.” You don’t know where the words came from, but they flow effortlessly and the God-King smiles and nods in approval.  
“So it is witnessed.” He says and the burn marks begin to shift and move. You watch, entranced as they expand until they are completely over your palm and loop up to the first knuckle on each of your fingers. The pattern is still on the underside of your hand, if you close your fist no one would see it and the gold symbol doesn’t change in the slightest. The God-King removes his fingers and grins at you.  
“Breathe, child.” He tells you and you hadn’t even noticed you had stopped. 

“Now.” He reaches behind him and withdraws a knife from under his shirt. “This is for you.”  
You go to take it, but he tuts in disapproval.  
“Not so quickly.” He chides. “Your first lesson will be control.” He flips the blade up and catches the very tip on the end of his index finger. You watch with awe as he balances the knife without moving his hand or allowing the weapon to waver.  
“You will practise this until you have perfected it to prove you are worthy of my tutelage.” He flips the blade again and hands it to you pommel first. You take it from him reverentially. 

It’s a small, straight knife about four inches long and with an emerald set into either side at the base of the blade. The guards is a line of twisted silver and the handle is made of metal wire and leather. The pommel is a perfect polished sphere. The God-King takes off the scabbard from his belt, lowers it to your hip and suddenly you’re in leather trousers and a casual linen tunic. There’s a belt in the loops around you waist and the scabbard is already threaded through.  
“You keep the scabbard with you at all times, you will not draw the blade in my presence.” He tells you.  
“What if I’m practising and you walk in?” You ask.  
“You sheathe it immediately.”  
“Okay.” You nod in agreement. “Thank you, Majesty.”  
“Make me proud.”  
“I will.”  
You sheathe the blade after a few attempts and he laughs at you. 

You sit back and look at him expectantly.  
“So what now?” You ask and he presses the orange juice back in your hand.  
“You rest, you recuperate. Your only tasks are to learn how to use the blade and to feed Tony Stark once a day. The basket will be on the kitchen table by three p.m. It will be in his cell half an hour later.”  
“Understood, Majesty.”  
“You will also work on your bond between the two of you. He must trust you, I expect it to happen.”  
“Yes, Majesty.”  
“I will be out for the rest of the day. I’m taking a tour of the Pens and choosing a harem for my needs. Patrick has already been installed there, you won’t be bothered by him today.” He smiles and ruffles your hair.  
“Get some sleep child. I look forward to seeing your progress.”  
He stands and his outfit shimmers into full regal splendour. He lifts his arm and the sceptre appears in his grasp.  
“Until tonight.” He nods at you and you return it.  
“Have a good day, Majesty.” You say and he grins cruelly.  
“Oh, I very much intend to.”  
He stalks to the door out of the apartment and walks out into the corridor with a swish of his deep green cloak.  
You finish your orange juice and push the tray to one side. You lie flat on the carpet, look up at the ceiling and listen to the tick of the clock.  
It really is very comforting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I will get around to answering your comments. I know I have been shamefully lax these past few days, but in the time I've had to myself this week I've been forced to choose between updating or answering your lovely words - and I know you want the updates more. ;)
> 
> I am your story monkey and I accept this. It is a small price to pay.
> 
> I will try to give you the second half of this chapter on Sunday.


	14. Alien Technology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s an encryption key.” Mr Stark explains. “I crack it and the solid part of the circle will open and I get whatever’s inside.” He grimaces. “In theory anyway.” He tries to hand it to you and you put your hands behind your back.  
> “No, I’m not allowed to touch it.”  
> “Come on. It might help me here.”  
> “He said I wasn’t allowed to touch it.”  
> “Loki?”  
> “Yes.”  
> “Well, I won’t tell if you won’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, but I've been super busy this week. And I won't be able to write over the weekend because I'm going away. Excited to be going (holiday yay!), but still kind of frustrated that I can't get on with my story. I'm going camping and hiking, far from any powerpoints, in case you're wondering...
> 
> Anyway, expect an update Tuesday or Wednesday, depending on how dog tired I am getting back on the Monday. 
> 
> I am still and always will be your typing monkey. I am not giving up on this fic and it will get finished as quickly as I can get it out of my twisted little head. :)
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading.

*

You reach the halfway point on the stairs and sink to the floor, cursing. Couldn’t the God-King have gotten a servant to see to Mr Stark, just for today? Aren’t you ever going to get a day off? What day is it anyway? You think about it and realise you have no idea. You can’t even remember what day it was when the battle for New York began – everything’s just one massive chunk of pain and survival, punctuated by the occasional meal and uneven periods of sleep.  
Hmmmmm… Maybe it’s Tuesday. It certainly feels like a Tuesday…  
You try to stand and find that you can’t, that your legs have seized up again. Well, Mr Stark isn’t going to be fed by three thirty today…

You feel a sharp twinge of pain in your head and you guess it’s reached the half-hour already. The God-King’s checking on you from wherever he is in the city. You feel him in your head for a moment, assessing your energy levels and his annoyance burns through your mind. Something from an external source floods in through your back, filling your body with warmth. His hologram flickers to life next to you and its face is filled with contempt.  
“I’ve given you an hour. Don’t waste it.” He sneers and then the hologram disappears again before you can answer.  
“Thank you, Majesty.” You murmur to the world in general. Your legs twitch with new vigour and with a deep sigh you pull yourself to your feet and continue up the stairs.

“Hi, Mini Me.” Is the greeting you get as you walk through the door.  
“Hi, Mr Stark.” You answer. He’s hunched up on the ground, his fingers moving with purpose over the circular device you gave him yesterday. “I brought you lunch.”  
“Yeah sure, just put it over there.” He gestures randomly.  
“Next to the toilet?” You ask.  
“Hmmmm… What?”  
“You just gestured to the corner with the toilet hole. It wouldn’t be hygienic.”  
He looks up at you. He looks back at what he’s doing.  
“Eh. Wherever will be fine.”  
“I have to watch you eat, Mr Stark. I have to take the basket back with me.” You say it patiently.  
“Just dump it out, it’s fine.”  
“No, Mr Stark. I have to watch you eat.”  
“Who says?”  
“The God-King Loki.” 

Mr Stark stiffens at the name and then looks at you again. He sighs and puts down the circle.  
“Fine.” He says and walks over. “You’re a pushy little hallucination, aren’t you?”  
“I’m real, Mr Stark.”  
“Yeah whatever, keep telling yourself that.” He takes the basket from your hand. “Hey, burger and chips.” His face brightens. “This better be real, kid.”  
“It’s as real as I am, Mr Stark.” You tell him and he laughs.  
“Well, that’s a pretty dire endorsement.” But he sinks his teeth into the burger without another word.  
You sit down next to him in silence while he eats.  
“So, you done talking?” He asks between mouthfuls.  
“I’m not allowed to speak during mealtimes.” You tell him and he frowns.  
“Well that can be struck off the record for a start.” He says. “If I only get to talk to you once a day then you can talk whenever you damn well please.”  
“Thank you, Mr Stark.”  
“Tony.” He says forcefully and you just smile and shake your head. He sighs. “Loki’s got you whipped pretty well hasn’t he?”  
You lower your eyes and don’t say anything.

“Hey.” Mr Stark catches your arm. “I’m sorry. I just… Sometimes I don’t filter, okay? I shouldn’t have… God, I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like putting up with him.”  
“It’s okay, Mr Stark. We’re slowly reaching common ground. He was only going to smother me today, yesterday he made me hurt so much I almost died.” You smile weakly. “It’s progress…”  
“Shit.” Mr Stark shakes his head. He looks as if he’s going to say something else but just shakes his head again. “Shit.”  
“It’s okay, Mr Stark. He likes me, I think, tolerates me at least… I amuse him… I mean he made me breakfast this morning and he promised he’d never rape me, and he gave me this.” You hand Mr Stark the knife and he takes it thoughtfully.  
“So you’re grateful to him because he promised he wouldn’t rape you? How old are you, thirteen?”  
“Fourteen, Mr Stark.”  
“Fourteen and you’ve been thinking he might do it since he kidnapped you during the battle for New York?”  
“It’s always been a possibility.” You squirm uncomfortably. “If he thought I needed to be punished that way…”  
“Shit.” Mr Stark gives you the knife back. “I’d keep that close if I were you.”  
“I intend to, Mr Stark.” You smile and he nods decisively. 

He offers you some chips but you decline.  
“I ate before I came here.”  
“One chip and a mouthful of Pepsi, okay? Humour me.”  
“Okay.” You do it and he watches you with the same intensity as yesterday.  
“What are you hoping to see when I do that?” You ask.  
“I don’t know. You explode in a glittering ball of golden light or something…?” Mr Stark shrugs. “I’ll know when I see it.”  
“How many different ways can I tell you I’m real before you start to believe me?”  
“Sorry kid, can’t answer that one.”  
“You’re making this very difficult for me.” You tell him. “I mean if you don’t think I exist, how is this supposed to go?”  
He shrugs again.  
“We’ll work it out as we go along. How about that?”  
“I guess it’ll have to do.” You agree grudgingly.  
“Good.” Mr Stark finishes his meal and picks up the two remaining bottles of water to put in his favourite corner. “Now come over here and give me your impression of this toy Loki left me yesterday.” 

You follow him obediently to the strange technological circle where he left it on the floor. It’s still flashing green and the symbols keep changing too quickly for the eye to follow.  
“It’s an encryption key.” Mr Stark explains. “I crack it and the solid part of the circle will open and I get whatever’s inside.” He grimaces. “In theory anyway.” He tries to hand it to you and you put your hands behind your back.  
“No, I’m not allowed to touch it.”  
“Come on. It might help me here.”  
“He said I wasn’t allowed to touch it.”  
“Loki?”  
“Yes.”  
“Well, I won’t tell if you won’t.”  
“You don’t understand. He’ll know and he’ll punish me for it.”  
“Is he watching right now?” Mr Stark glances around the room. “Sneaky invisible fairy that he is.”  
“No, he’s not here. If he was I’d know.” The words surprise you, but you know as you say them that it’s true. You can’t track him like he can do to you, but there’s feedback. If he’s close you can feel it. It’s a revelation, but one you’d wished you’d had yesterday, when you thought he was a hologram.  
“So where’s the worry?” Mr Stark asks, bringing you back to the here and now by proffering you the circle again.  
“Mr Stark, I can’t touch it.” You say firmly.  
“Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?” He asks and then sees the look in your eyes. “Okay, that was a bad choice of words.” He raises his hands in a placatory gesture. “Look, see it from my perspective. You turn up with this key, therefore you might be part of the puzzle. Loki told you not to touch it, why would he do that?”  
“So he can rip my brain out when I disobey him?” You keep your tone light and humorous to hide your fear.  
“Granted.” Tony, nods pensively and bites his bottom lip. “I hadn’t really thought of it like that.”  
“Look Mr Stark. I can’t touch it, I can’t risk my life on a hunch. But I can be your soundboard, I can help you work out what you need to do to solve it.”  
“Were you good at math?”  
“No, but I was good at word games and logic puzzles. They were the only lessons I enjoyed.”  
“Okay, let’s see what you got. Loki didn’t provide you with a pen and paper did he?”  
“Unfortunately not, but I’ve got a good memory.”  
“Right, let’s see what we can come up with.” 

Mr Stark’s mind is just… Brilliant. Your contributions are pretty lame, kindergarten stuff really, but he listens and uses them to refine his own approach. You pick up a few repetitions that he doesn’t and you don’t understand half the stuff he tells you, but your short term memory is excellent and you can repeat it back to him word for word, even when you don’t know what you’re saying. Your short term memory is what got you a solid A pass grade across the board in school. You can cram like a robot, fitting all the information into your head over a few days, taking the test and then conveniently forgetting it all again. But this is way harder, so much more challenging. And you find you’re enjoying it, you’re enjoying being stretched like this and you wish more of your lessons had been this crazy level of difficult. Mr Stark had already been very close to breaking the code without your help. But with that extra level of push, that chance to verbalise what he’s thinking to another human being, is what helps him make the final connections. 

“It’s really what I used JARVIS for.” He says as his hands move confidently over the changing surface. “Having someone to talk to when working things out can be all you need to…” The circle chimes and the green flickers from lime to deep grass and then flickers out. “There, I think I’ve got it.”  
There’s a blue flare from deep inside and a pencil thin beam of light extrudes itself from one of the sides. It touches the glass and the wall shimmers for a second. Then a hidden door opens.  
“Huh.” Mr Stark grunts in surprise. “Is that the way out?”  
“Nope. That door is on the opposite wall.” You tell him and he grins.  
“A secret room. My that’s tempting.” He looks at you. “What do you think?”  
“Want me to go through first?” You ask.  
“Send a kid in when there’s a hero in the room?” Mr Stark gets up and strides forward. “I don’t think so.” He pauses at the threshold. “Hmmmm… Get me the pepsi can will you?” 

You go and get it for him and he experimentally puts it through the entrance. Nothing happens.  
“So far, so good.” He says as he runs it across the edge of the entire doorframe, checking for traps.  
“Nothing there.” He confirms and rolls it into the new room across the floor.  
“No hidden trip wires, or laser beams.” He sighs. “There could be pressure plates, but… Well I don’t have anything to test that.”  
“I don’t think he wants to kill you, Mr Stark.” You say. “If he did, he’d be less elaborate than this.”  
“You’re sure? He is the god of sneaky tricks after all.”  
“If he wanted to kill you, he’d be here and he isn’t. He’d want to watch.”  
“Point.” Mr Stark concedes and walks through the doorway. He freezes after his first step with his eyes tightly closed and then opens them experimentally.  
“See?” You say as you walk past him.  
“Well it occurred to me if you were an illusion sent by him, then you would say everything was safe wouldn’t you… And technically he would be watching… But I thought it a little too late in the day.” Mr Stark looks embarrassed.  
“Hey, not everyone’s perfect.” You tell him and look around with interest. “So what’s all this?”

The room’s a mess, a tangle of wires and strange technology. As Mr Stark walks across the room the lights flicker on and the walls become transparent. You both freeze with horror.  
“My god, Loki. What have you done?” Mr Stark whispers as you both see clearly into the rooms beyond. You’re surrounded by Chitauri as they continue their grizzly work, but the lights from the room shed brightness across the stark metal tables and their helpless struggling occupants. The Chitauri’s skin looks dead and grey in the white light, inhuman and skeletal without their armour. They move bare footed across the concrete floors, their movements strange and jerky as if they are more machine than organic and their cybernetics are dark and oily where they are exposed above the skin. You walk forward and put your hand to the glass, feeling its weird warmth and knowing it is still shutting out all the sound. It does something to your marked hand, a shiver of static travelling all the way down to your elbow and you grow suspicious.  
“I’ll be right back.” You say and head for the cell.  
“Sure.” Mr Stark agrees. He absently ruffles your hair as you walk past. The gesture is softer and kinder than the God-King’s and you smile at him as you go by. 

You put your hand to the glass by the exit and the door slides open. You turn to the right and go up the corridor to where Mr Stark’s cell finishes. You can see the small crack of light that divides the two cells apart, but both walls are black, there is no bright white light shining through. You run your hand across it, this is where the secret room begins. The walls on this side of the secret room are pitch black and deathly cold to the touch. You follow it around and find that it’s a strange cell. It shouldn’t be there – it sticks out way beyond the other cells. Mr Stark’s room should have been on the corner of the massive prison square on this floor, but instead there is this extra cell with three sides unconnected. You follow it around until you reach the wall again and the rest of the prisons move off into the distance. The secret room is surrounded on three sides by the thin corridor you stand in and Chituari experimentation rooms, but there is no light beyond the dim shining of the purple Chitauri hydraulics. You can’t see very far beyond the glass that separates you from them.  
“Okay.” You say to yourself quietly and you head back to the entrance to Mr Stark’s prison. 

“Find what you were looking for?” Mr Stark asks. He’s crouched on the floor, teasing some of the wires apart and matching them by colour.  
“I think so.” You say cautiously.  
“I saw you walking around the outside wall.”  
“You did?” You ask and he looks at you like you’re being dense. “It’s all dark glass from the outside.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well it’s cold to the touch as well, like it’s inert. But you touch it on this side…”  
Mr Stark gets up and follows your instructions.  
“It’s warm.” He says thoughtfully.  
“Exactly. It’s some sort of spell I think. We can see out, but no one can see in.”  
“And why would Loki do that?” Mr Stark asks. You shrug your shoulders.  
“I don’t know. But this room is stuck out from the rest, like it was an afterthought.”  
“Like it was never meant to be a cell?” Mr Stark asks and you nod.  
“I guess.”  
“Well while you were having a walkabout I was looking through this mess of wiring. None of it’s connected to anything. I mean, it’s connected to itself and there’s certainly some weird circuitry logic to it, but there’s no power source. Well, there’s this empty space here that might be for a battery or something, but it’s a circle, not a square…” He trails off and smacks his forehead with the palm of his hand. “I am so dumb…”  
He walks back to the cell and comes in holding the circle. He kicks some of the pieces of tech away and prises back a hefty sheaf of wiring.  
“Right.” He says and places the circle into the gap waiting for it. It flickers several different shades of green and blue, then begins to flicker in many different colours at once.  
You watch it transfixed.

“It’s like the Bifrost.” You whisper after a few quiet minutes.  
“What do you know about the Bifrost?” Mr Stark asks, his voice careful and suspicious.  
“The God-King… Um… Loki took me there. It was a vision I think, some sort of memory illusion. His memories. We started on the Bifrost.”  
“He took you to Asgard?”  
“His memory of Asgard. I was going through surgery at the time and he decided to take me away for a while.” You lift your arm and pull down your shirt to show him the scar.  
“Ouch.” Mr Stark says. You lift your shirt to show him some of the other marks as well. “What happened?”  
“A building almost fell on me. There was a lot of shrapnel.”  
“And he put your through surgery?” Mr Stark nods. “Guess he does give a crap after all.”  
“He said he was only helping me because I was useful.”  
“Useful how?”  
“A child in pain is a great motivator.” Your voice is strangely emotionless when you say it. You look down at the circle again. Mr Stark doesn’t say anything but moves around so he can get a better look at the tech. 

“So you think it’s Asgardian in origin?” He asks.  
“Well the power source is, for sure. The rest, I don’t know.” You push a few of the wires around despondently. “I mean this could be anything from earth.”  
“And this bit here…” Mr Stark lifts what looks like a view screen. “Is Chitauri – I think.” It glows the same dull hue of purple. “You recognise any of the letters?”  
“No.” You look at the strange language and shake your head.  
“Huh. Well it was worth a shot.” Mr Stark says, but his eyes are already getting that faraway look. “Guess I’ll have to decode this too.”

You stand up and look out at the experiments being carried out only a few feet away.  
“I don’t understand why he’s showing you this though. Won’t it be distracting?”  
“Not once I get going. I can’t hear it, so I’ll be able to zone it out.” Mr Stark stands and walks over. “And I think I know why he’s doing it.”  
“Why?”  
“People in pain are a great motivator.” He says it as blandly as you did. “And he wants to spur me on in my work.”  
“What does he want you to do?”  
“I don’t know yet, but I figure it’ll be in this mess somewhere.” Mr Stark presses his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. “God, I could use some coffee.”  
“I’ll ask him to give you some tomorrow.” You say.  
“Thanks, kid.” He looks out at the Chitauri and gives a sound of disgust. “Shit, there’re even children out there.”  
“Where?”  
He points and you see the small figure struggling and crying on a table just at the limit of the light. He’s about five years old, his hair is blonde and there are tubes running down under his ribcage. You would recognise Charlie anywhere.  
“Dust and thread.” You whisper to yourself, horrified.  
“What?” Mr Stark asks.  
“Nothing.” You sigh. “It’s nothing, Mr Stark.” You feel sick seeing another of the God-King’s betrayals. But he’d told you this morning hadn’t he? Only your deal was the one he would abide by, because of the magical bond. What could Patrick do anyway? Even if he did ever find out. 

A shudder runs through you and you stagger. Mr Stark catches you.  
“What’s wrong?”  
“The magic’s running out.” You say and Mr Stark almost drops you.  
“Magic?” He asks suspiciously.  
“I’m sick, Mr Stark, really ill. I’m recovering from my surgery and the God-King has been a little liberal with his punishments. I couldn’t make it to your cell today and so he gave me a little boost. Don’t worry it’s not contagious or anything.”  
“Great, next time start with that last sentence.”  
“I’ll remember.” You smile up at him.  
“You look like death, kid. Are you going to make it back?”  
“I should do, if I start now.”  
“Well don’t let me keep you.”  
“Have you slept today, Mr Stark?”  
“No. But I’ll be fine. I’m on a project. I’ll sleep tomorrow… maybe… Just remember that coffee.”  
“You really should sleep, Mr Stark.”  
“Shut it, Mini Me.” But his voice is gentle. “I don’t need a nursemaid.”  
“I guess.”  
“Come on, I’ll escort you out.” 

You put your hand to the glass and the cell door slides open. Mr Stark looks at it thoughtfully.  
“So I could just walk out?” He asks.  
“I think there’s a system to stop that happening.” You say. “I had to be programmed in by the God-King.”  
Mr Stark puts his hand out and winces as the invisible gold force-field glows against his fingertips. He pulls his hand back as if he’s been burned and blows on his fingers. You put your hand out and it passes straight through.  
“Okay. Point taken.” Mr Stark agrees. “Where am I anyway?”  
You consider whether the God-King would punish you for telling him. But he did say that you had to earn Mr Stark’s trust and this was a good way to start building that bridge.  
“We’re in the Empire State.”  
“Really, I thought we’d be in Stark Tower…”  
“Stark Tower has been half consumed by the Tesseract. No one can get to the top floors now, the energy circle is just too big. And even if you could, your security system has locked everything down. No one can get in.”  
“Good old JARVIS.” Mr Stark smiles. “So where…?”  
“Eighty-fifth floor.” You say promptly.  
“That’s really close to the observation deck…” Mr Stark looks up at the ceiling, deep in thought.  
“If you think you’re getting help by air, you can forget it. There are five Chitauri motherships hanging over New York now and the place is thick with their flyers. And you’d have to fight through two floors of Chitauri held territory to get here. And there’s a Tesseract powered force-field around the city. And there’s no easy way to assault from the ground either. The lifts are gone, I have to climb five flights of stairs to get here.”  
“Loki’s bedded down on the Eightieth floor?”  
“Yeah, his main rooms are there, but the whole top part is his, seventy to eighty. He has a throne room and a conference floor and a harem.”  
“A harem?”  
“He’s collecting people to fill it today.”  
“Huh. Why am I not surprised?” Mr Stark sighs with disgust. He ruffles your hair again and you close your eyes at the feel of it.  
“Thanks again, kid.” He says. “Now get home safely, you hear me?”  
“I promise, Mr Stark.”  
“And don’t forget to ask about the coffee.” He calls after you as the door slides shut. 

You have to stop three times on the stairs as your body is racked with violent shaking, but you make it down without incident. The magic is wearing off rapidly, but you grit your teeth and make it to the apartment. You stagger to your square of carpet outside the God-King’s bedroom and you sit down to rest. You’re not overly tired, physically yes, but your mind’s still whirling from all the stuff you did with Mr Stark. You crawl over to the chest where the God-King said your stuff was stashed and find your backpack sitting snuggly within. You drink half a bottle of water, making a mental note to fill them next time you get the chance and take three of the chocolate bars along with your John Wyndam Omnibus. You crawl back to your safe spot, find where you left off at school and start to read while munching on the chocolate.  
All in all there are worse ways to spend a possibly Tuesday afternoon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the summary kind of hinted at something that didn't happen, so sorry about that. But you're only allowed so many words in the summary and the rest of the paragraph seemed clunky out of context. The kid might touch the power source at some point in the story, but right now they're steering clear. 
> 
> Hope you like my Tony, he's not quite as chipper as most of the other fan fics, but given his position right now, he'd be a bit more serious than normal. 
> 
> Thank you for all the wonderful comments, they really keep me going (and occassionally make me giggle manacially, but hey that's just the Loki part of my brain joining in. :p) I was really worried that this fic wouldn't work, that it'd be too dark, but Loki is dark, always has been to my mind and I started this fic with the idea of giving him justice. What he'd be like if he was allowed to let rip and rule Midgard as he wanted to. 
> 
> From what I'm reading, I appear to be on the right track, thank you so much for taking the time to let me know.


	15. Facing down the Ferryman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Majesty?” Your voice is quiet and broken, but you get the word out.  
>  “I know you’re there, child. I was giving you the chance to see sense and leave.” The God-King doesn’t look at you, but continues to inspect his human prize. His thumb travelling idly up and down the man’s back. “I’m in a good mood, so I’m giving you a single warning.”  
>  “Thank you, Majesty. I appreciate the gesture.” You bow your head to him. “But I need to talk to you on behalf of Mr Stark.”  
>  “I’m not interested.” His voice carries his disinclination to listen and there’s a small stab of pain to accompany his words.  
>  “With respect, Majesty. I think you are interested.”  
>  “Oh? Why?”  
>  “Because I’m not on the floor screaming yet.”  
>  The God-King looks at you with a slight smile on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, triggers:
> 
> Threats of torture and interesting sexual role-play (not with the main character obviously), fear of death and an uncomfortable mind-rape scene. 
> 
> Had real problems writing this one, but I'll talk more about it after you've read the chapter (No spoilers, sweetie).

*

The war starts the next day. For you it isn’t that much of a regime change. The God-King comes and goes, sometimes disappearing for days at a time, coming back tired and happy and filled with a feral energy. Death seems to agree with him. When he isn’t fighting somewhere in a different State he’s down on the harem floor, prowling among his conquests. You don’t really see him that often at all.

But when he is around you quickly learn to make yourself scarce. When you hear the lift reach your floor and the God-King’s loud and playful voice rings down the corridor you do your best to run and hide. That tone is dangerous, it often comes with someone else’s screams and if he catches you in the lounge in that mood he corners you and tortures you until you beg him to let you go. 

The other servants hate you. The ones who cook and clean care for you in the God-King’s absence, but they are dour and sullen and will not talk to you. The harem slaves call you the ‘God-King’s pet’ and treat you with nothing but scorn. Patrick in particular dislikes you. He think’s your life is easy and looks for ways to make it more difficult. So you spend a lot of the time in the God-King’s chambers alone, practising with your knife and keeping out of everyone’s way. 

Your strength grows day by day and Mr Stark’s work progresses at a steady, but frustrating pace. You both struggle with the Chitauri mind-set and it makes translation difficult at best. At least the God-King conceded the coffee and a flask is made for Mr Stark daily to help him in his work.  
The cell has also become a place of refuge. When the fear of the God-King becomes too much, when you can no long handle the cries of pain from his bedroom and his high, strident laugh, you walk up the stairs and find a corner of Mr Stark’s cell to sleep in. Sometimes you wake to find him curled around you, lost to exhaustion, his breathing deep and regular. Both of you seeking a little comfort in an unfriendly world. Without Mr Stark you are sure you would already be quite insane. He teases you, but there is no malice there and out of everyone you know he is the only one who is kind.  
You would do almost anything to keep him happy…

*

“No, Mr Stark, I can’t do that.” You tell him, your voice high and frightened.  
“Come on, Short Stuff. We’ve been talking about this for days. You know I need it, you know how important it is for me to complete my work.” Mr Stark wipes down his arms as he talks. Every three days you are given a bowl of water and some cleaning products so Mr Stark can wash and shave. The God-King wants to keep him ‘pretty’ and Mr Stark is more than happy to oblige.  
“You know what happened the last time I interrupted one of his games? He threatened to remove half my teeth – by hand!” You shake your head. “I just, I just can’t.”  
“But he’s definitely back from the campaign?”  
“Yes, he returned an hour ago and I got out of there as quickly as I could. I couldn’t stand the way he was looking at me. If I give him a reason he’ll pin me to a wall with his daggers.”  
“Where is he now? Turn around a minute.” Mr Stark starts to remove his jogging bottoms and you look away for modesty’s sake.

You concentrate, reaching out along your bond with the God-King. Since you realised you could tell if he was nearby, you’ve been refining the talent. Now, if he’s in the building, you know and you can track him to about twenty feet of his actual location. You confided your gift with Mr Stark and now you’re questioning the wisdom of telling him. If the God-King ever found out…

“Ummmm.” You open your eyes in alarm. “Shit, he’s heading to the harem level…”  
“Then you’re going to have to move quickly.”  
“But…”  
“No buts. I know he’s getting worse, I know he’s losing what little control he had, but you have to do this.”  
“Can’t we wait until he tires himself out a little first?” You ask desperately.  
“And how long would that take?”  
“Two, maybe three days?”  
“No. We don’t have the time, he might head out again before then. And we’re at a deadlock, I need the extra input. And you know how much worse it will be if we hit a problem and don’t tell him straight away.”  
You sigh deeply.  
“It’s alright for you, you don’t have to deal with him when he’s a coming off a killing high. He’s a Warmongering Death Pixie, Mr Stark and he’ll flay me if this goes wrong.”  
“You come up with that yourself?”  
“Yes.”  
“Not bad, a little long, but not bad.” Mr Stark finishes cleaning and pulls on the fresh trousers you brought with you. He goes and pours the dirty water down the toilet hole and refills the bowl from the bottle of water you brought up for that use. He breaks open the shaving kit and uses the sheer black surface of his cell as a mirror.  
“Listen, kid. I get where you’re coming from, I do. If I could go and see him myself, I would. But we both know only you can do this. I have to rely on you. Just say what I told you and everything will be fine. It’ll make him curious and he’s a sucker for that kind of stuff.”  
“He’s going to hurt me, Mr Stark.” You say miserably, but you know he’s right.  
“There’s a high chance, yes, and I’m sorry. But he won’t hurt you too much, magical bargain not-with-standing. Because if he hurts you too badly, I’ll stop playing ball and he can’t afford that.” Mr Stark starts applying the lather to his cheeks. “Go on, quickly, before he gets started.”  
Reluctantly, you leave the room and head for the stairs.

*

You find the God-King in the act of catching his prey for the evening. It’s a youngish man, tall, but still awkward and gangly with a thick shoulder-length mop of deep auburn hair. His skin is the pale white/pink shade most red heads have and his eyes are a bright hazel. You haven’t spoken to him before, nor he to you. He’s walking bare chested with just a loose pair of green harem trousers on and he squeals in absolute terror as the God-King steps out from his invisibility and presses him hard up against the wall.

“Hmmmm. I haven’t had you before, have I? You’ve been on my mind, but I thought to save you for a special occasion.” He turns the man around and presses his forehead against the wall. He runs his fingers down the man’s spine and starts to play with the cloth around the waist band. “Last night we took four cities in Canada, just beyond the border. This morning the country signed a peace treaty with me to ensure the safety of their people now under my control. I think it calls for a celebration, don’t you?” The man makes a small noise of assent. “Do you want to play hostage and captor?” He God-King spreads his hand across the man’s buttocks. “I feel like a bit of role-play.” He presses his lips to the man’s ear. “Tell me, have you ever been water-boarded?” 

“Majesty?” Your voice is quiet and broken, but you get the word out.  
“I know you’re there, child. I was giving you the chance to see sense and leave.” The God-King doesn’t look at you, but continues to inspect his human prize. His thumb travelling idly up and down the man’s back. “I’m in a good mood, so I’m giving you a single warning.”  
“Thank you, Majesty. I appreciate the gesture.” You bow your head to him. “But I need to talk to you on behalf of Mr Stark.”  
“I’m not interested.” His voice carries his disinclination to listen and there’s a small stab of pain to accompany his words.  
“With respect, Majesty. I think you are interested.”  
“Oh? Why?”  
“Because I’m not on the floor screaming yet.”  
The God-King looks at you with a slight smile on his lips. He lets the man go and takes a casual step back.  
“Go on, run along. Maybe tomorrow.” He says and the man runs away with his head bowed. The God-King watches him go in thoughtful disappointment. His lips twist in frustrated lust.  
“Such a pretty ass.” He says sadly. “You’d better have a wonderful… no… a glorious reason for being here, child.” He looks over at you and you take a deep breath before you continue.

“Mr Stark wants to go into Stark Tower.”  
The God-Kings laughs.  
“Absolutely not.”  
“He’s willing to take you with him.”  
“I’m more than sure he is.”  
“And as many soldiers as you feel is necessary.”  
“And that will help how when he gains one of his suits?”  
“He doesn’t want one of his suits.”  
“I’m sure he doesn’t.” The God-King taps his foot in impatience. “You came here and made me give up that beautiful creature just to waste my time?”  
“Please, just hear Mr Stark out. You’ll be glad you did, I promise.”  
“You know my view on promises.”  
“Majesty, you know I would never dare come down here if this wasn’t important. His research has ground to a halt and he needs some technology to help him with processing the calculations. It’s too complex, even for him to do in his head.”  
“So he’s refusing to work?”  
“No. He just needs some things, just a few things…”  
“What kind of things?”  
“Ask him, not me. I could memorise the list, but I couldn’t answer any of your questions. He’s asked for an audience in your throne room to put forward his request formally.”  
The God-King goes deathly quiet and you know you’ve made a mistake, but you don’t know what.

“He knows I have a throne room?” He asks eventually.  
“Yes.” You look uncomfortable.  
“Have you told him anything else?”  
“A few bits and pieces, he knows he’s in Empire State and what floor he’s on and that escape is pretty impossible.” You see the God-King’s face and you panic. “I just… You said I had to make him trust me.”  
The God-Kings strides up and you go to back away but he growls and gestures for you to remain still. You cower as he gets within arm’s reach and raise your hands to ward him off.  
“Put your hands down.”  
“Majesty…”  
“Do it. And stand straight.”  
You obey, your eyes locked on the floor.  
“Look at me.” He snaps and your eyes flicker up to his.  
“You gave my enemy tactical information about his incarceration. You agreed you would be clever – how is this clever?” The God-King raises his hand and you shy away, but you don’t break his gaze.  
“What lies do you want me to feed him, now that he thinks I will only tell him the truth?” You ask candidly. He considers your words and then lowers his arm.  
“You have a point.” He concedes. “Show me your knife work.”

You reach for the sheath and find your fingers closing around the hilt smoothly. You draw the blade in an easy motion and balance it on your palm. You roll it round neatly and catch it on your index finger, pushing the flat with your thumb and lifting it smoothly by the tip. You found the sweet spot four days ago, the place on your finger where the bone and skin can take the weight without pain. You lift the knife steadily as it sways gently, getting the feeling just right and gaining full control of the entire weapon from your simple contact with the tip. The God-King watches quietly and with a slight smile on his face. He nods as you managed to hold the blade without hand or weapon wavering for over thirty seconds.  
“Very good.” He says in approval. Then he snatches the blade from the air, slams you hard against the wall and presses the edge against your throat. 

You stare up at him in wild bewilderment.  
“You love him don’t you?” The God-King sneers. “Have you let him fuck you yet? Is he getting what I promised to leave alone?”  
“No.” You gasp and squirm in shock. The knife presses tighter and you force yourself to still. “I like him, he’s thinks we’re friends, but we’re not. I’d never, he’d never… Is sex all you think about?”  
“It was on my mind, yes.”  
“No, he hasn’t had sex with me.” You say in angry frustration. “I’m fourteen and he has standards.”  
The edge cuts into your skin and you give a small gasp of fear as you feel the blood trickle down your neck.  
“And so you infer that I do not?”  
“I infer that I am not to his tastes. As in he does not find children attractive.” You look him in the eyes. “Please, Majesty. Do not misunderstand me. I understand we have cultural differences, I did not mean to insult you.”  
“Yes you did, you little shit.” But the pressure is relaxed and he does not cut any deeper. “He’s beginning to rub off on you.”  
“Perhaps. He is the only person I’ve had any meaningful conversation with in the last few weeks.” 

The God-King gives a small sigh.  
“Do the other servants not like you?”  
“They despise me. Are you surprised?”  
“No. From the outside our relationship might appear better than their agreements with me. Perhaps even beneficial for you.”  
“They don’t have to live with it.”  
“No. They don’t.” The God-King agrees. “Tell me child, do you love me?”  
“Love you?” You ask, surprised by the question.  
“Yes.” His lip curls in amusement.  
“No.” You say firmly and pause for a heartbeat, steeling yourself to tell him the truth.  
“I fear you, Majesty.” You tell him quietly. “With all my heart.” 

The God-King gives out a small, shuddering breath and then he smiles widely.  
“I truly think that is the nicest, most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me.” He tells you. He lifts the knife, wipes the blood on his sleeve and puts it back in the sheath at your belt.  
“Now, let’s finish this conversation upstairs, shall we?”

*

When you reach the apartment he gestures you to sit at the table in the lounge and walks off into the kitchen. You smell coffee percolating and the sounds of a meal being prepared. It’s mid-afternoon so the servants are on their break. The God-King is making you food again and you realise you are privileged in that regard. It is extremely unlikely he cooks for anyone else. But when he returns and puts down the tray your feeling of wellbeing instantly evaporates. There’s a plate of sandwiches, a small cup of coffee and a bowl of ice cream.

“No.” You say quietly. “I won’t do it.”  
The God-King just smiles at you politely.  
“Eat what you are given.” He tells you and begins to drink his coffee.  
“No.” You say again.  
“One way or another, you will obey me.” He says casually. “Why make this harder on yourself?”  
“You’re not going into my head. Not again. Not after last time.”  
“And you think you get to choose, do you?”  
“I’ll fight you. I’ll fight you every inch of the way.” You tell him.  
The God-King sighs and puts his coffee down.  
“Why are you being so difficult?” He asks.  
_Because if you look in my mind, you’ll realise I can track you and then you’ll… I don’t know what you’ll do, but I’ll never see the outside world again. You’ve promised not to kill me, but you’ll do something much, much worse…_  
You look down at the table and close your eyes.  
“I won’t do it.” You tell him and steel yourself for punishment. 

The attack is so comprehensive, so total that you actually blackout and come around on the floor gasping for air. You’ve fallen so hard your elbows and knees are bruised from the impact with the ground. You try to stand to find your head is spinning and you stagger a few steps before falling again.  
“I only want your recent memories, child. Those of you and Tony Stark. I want to know if I can trust you and you’re not filling me with confidence.” The God-King is still sitting at the table and drinking his coffee, as if this was the most ordinary thing in the world.  
“I can’t trust you, so why would it be true the other way around?” You snarl out and instantly regret it.  
“You see – that was very foolish thing to say.” The God-King sounds like a disappointed parent. “I expected better of you.” 

You blackout again under the second onslaught and come to near the couch. You’ve been trying to crawl away from him. He’s standing over you as if he’s been walking beside you during your escape attempt. He’s still carrying his coffee.  
“Why are you being so difficult? What can Tony have confided in you that you so desperately want to keep secret?” He asks as he takes another mouthful.  
_It’s what I’ve confided in him. Not the other way around…_  
Why did you tell Mr Stark what you could do? It had seemed a great idea at the time, but the repercussions were going to be awful. If you hadn’t told him, you might have been able to hide it, but now the God-King would see and he would be furious.  
“You took my name!” You scream at him and he sighs.  
“You still hold a grudge against me for that?” He asks. “It’s not like you needed it. You haven’t suffered for its loss, not really.”  
“How would you know? It was one of the few things that was truly mine and you stole it!”  
“Nothing is truly yours, child. Not anymore.” He offers his hand to you. “Come back to the table and start behaving. I have no time for a childish tantrum.”  
“No!”  
“Fine.” The God-King puts his coffee on the arm of the couch and crouches down beside you. “Have it your way.” 

And he peels your mind open like a fruit. You thought you had defences in place, a wall that would keep him back. But it’s as strong as orange peel against a blade. And you feel his mind all around yours, old and ancient and powerful. A lion pinning a cub under a single large paw. You can feel the tips of the claws, ready and waiting to unsheathe and do terrible damage.  
“And so you see.” The God-King says in your head. “How easily I could break you. How kind I was the first time.”  
You don’t answer. You know you should be terrified, but instead you’re cold and calm, trying work out a way of escape. You’re so out of your depth that your normal instincts can’t even understand the danger you’re in, so you’re viewing it intellectually as a survival exercise. He reaches in and takes the memories you have of Mr Stark and there is nothing you can do. You sit and wait as he reads them, waiting for the inevitable anger, for the awful punishment. 

He’s aware of your trepidation and is curious of it. You can feel him rifling through other areas of your mind as he reads your memories. Searching through your thoughts and emotions randomly, trying to unearth the reason for your panic. He finds something, digs deeper, you groan from the intrusion of it. It doesn’t hurt in the slightest, but the intimacy of his attack, gentle though it is, is completely unbearable.  
_Getoutgetoutgetoutgetout…_  
You feel his amusement. He’s an intruder in your home, but you can’t make him leave, not until he gets what he wants.  
“I won’t hurt you, child. I could, but I won’t.”  
“Liar.”  
“Why would I lie? Isn’t it more fun this way? Knowing what I could do, but won’t? Knowing how utterly I could destroy you and yet I choose to be kind?”  
“Why?”  
“Because you are expecting pain and punishment. And instead I give you an invasive intimacy so you can feel everything I do to you. So you know exactly how helpless you are.”  
You feel your body shudder as he caresses your mind.  
And then he digs in deeper.

“What’s behind here?” He asks.  
“I don’t… I don’t know where you are…”  
“Here.” And you’re aware of his presence in a numb part of your thoughts, somewhere you didn’t even know existed. “Why have you built this door?”  
“I don’t understand… I’ve never seen it before…”  
“A door you don’t even know you made, how delightful…”  
And then he reaches the point in your memories where you tell Mr Stark what you can do and you feel him stiffen. Every part of him becomes rigid and you feel as if your mind is about to be shredded by a thousand hard pieces of metal. He’s so deep inside that if he pulls back now he will deal you a massive amount of damage. His attention shifts to the door in your mind and with a single hard push he forces it open and goes inside. He’s in there for what seems like forever and you’re still outside, unable to see beyond the portal. Then he exits and closes it behind him. He relaxes again and works his way out of your thoughts.

You wake up on the carpet by the couch, completely and utterly spent. You flip onto your stomach as the urge to vomit over comes you.  
“No.” The God-King says sharply and your throat closes as your stomach heaves. You look at him in utter betrayal and he pulls you to your feet and forces you into the bathroom. He pushes you to your knees by the toilet.  
“Now throw up.” He says and releases his hold on you. You vomit into the bowl violently and continuously. Every time you think it’s over another round of nausea hits and you begin again. You’re dry heaving long before your body grows still and you clutch the toilet as you try to reach the handle to flush. 

“Let me.” The God-King pushes the handle down and lifts you to your feet. He propels you into the shower and in short space between there and the toilet you’re naked. The water’s already running and it’s hot enough to shock you back into the present. He walks in behind you and forces your head under the water, pulls you back and starts to clean your hair with a generous helping of shampoo, his fingers kneading hard into your scalp. You steady yourself against the tile wall and offer no resistance. His hands feel wonderful, he’s massaging the stress away and clearing the pain of what he did to your mind. But he isn’t being gentle. He forces your head back under the shower to clean away the suds and ignores you cries of protest as it stings your eyes and gets in your nose and mouth. He pulls you out of the shower, wet and spluttering and does nothing to catch you as you stumble and fall. You don’t know what’s happening, but you’re not afraid, you’re beyond fear now, in some strange, numb place in your head. You feel the towel around you and you submit meekly to the rough drying of your body. You’re suddenly dressed again and you scrabble around desperately to find your knife. You find it by the toilet and you pull it to your chest as he grabs you again and forces you out of the room. 

He seats you heavily into the chair by the table.  
“Eat.”  
You try to put up a token protest, but you no longer have the strength.  
“Eat.”  
You sit and you refuse.  
“For the love of Asgard, child…” And he’s grabbing your head and forcing it against his chest and he’s casting something with the other hand, gesturing and muttering a spell. You can’t pull away and he places his hand to your forehead…

*

…You’re so confused, you don’t know where you are or what’s happening…  
…You’re sat in a comfortable seat and there’s food in front of you and there’s the taste of vomit and shampoo in your mouth…  
…You want so very much to wash the taste away and there’s coffee and ice cream…  
…Your stomach rumbles and you are so very hungry…  
…There’s a man stood beside you and you look up at him for permission…  
“Eat.” He says simply.  
…And so you start to eat… 

*

You come around with the last spoonful of ice cream in your mouth and you spit it onto the plate. You try to stand and push the seat away at the same time, but the carpet doesn’t allow such a sudden movement and you fall over the chair instead and scramble back to your feet. You find you knife and hold it tightly to your side. The God-King watches you with veiled amusement.  
“Very good. It took you exactly five minutes to overcome the power of my suggestion to your over-worked and fatigued mind.”  
“Fuck you.” You snarl. “I’m done. I’m done doing what you want. Just fucking kill me and have done with it.”  
“I’m not going to kill you, child.” He tells you simply. “And we haven’t even started yet.” He smiles brightly. “Our relationship is just beginning.”  
“Well I’m finished with it.” You tell him. He chuckles and sits back in his seat.  
“Everyone gets to this point, you know. Where you have to fight or completely submit. You chose to fight. It was the right decision.”  
“What?” You look at him in confusion.  
“Believe it or not, I was exactly in your position right now, just a few fragile months ago. But you are still young, you fight like a child, spitting and hissing, trying to pretend you are bigger than you are.”  
“Then how did you win?”  
“I didn’t win. I pretended to submit.” The God-King shrugs. “Unlike you, if I had thrown it back in their face I would have lost my existence completely. They would have taken everything from me.”  
“So what are you going to do to me?” You ask and the God-King laughs. He looks you up and down.  
“What do you think I should do with you?” He asks and you take a few steps backwards. 

You don’t answer straight away. You need to give this a little thought and the God-King is willing to be patient.  
“So you don’t want to kill me.” You say quietly, thoughtfully.  
“No.”  
“But you don’t have to be nice.”  
He laughs. “No.”  
“But you don’t want me broken.”  
The God-King watches you with a smug smile and says nothing.  
“So you must see something of value in me…?”  
His expression doesn’t change.  
“And this is new. I’ve changed in your eyes. Before this you were just treating me like a burden, but now you’re treating me like I might almost be an adult…”  
“Don’t flatter yourself.”  
“But this is an adult conversation, an important conversation.” You look at him. “What was behind the door?”  
He doesn’t say anything, but you feel that you’re on the right track.  
“You saw what I can do. That I can track you and you almost destroyed me right there and then. But instead you went through the door and saw what was inside and you let me live.”  
You look at him expectantly and meet a wall of silence.  
“Come on, give me something to work with here.” You say, exasperated. “What did you see?” 

The God-King sighs before he answers.  
“I saw something wonderful, something rare and beautiful and unique and I could not, in conscience destroy it instantly. I thought I’d give you a chance to defend yourself.”  
“What did you see?” You almost beg him and he snorts in amusement and shakes his head.  
“Are you really that dense? You’re gifted, child.” He smiles ruefully. “Though I must admit I should have seen it earlier.”  
“Gifted?” You think you understand what he means, but you don’t dare believe it.  
“Why do you think you’ve be able to coast through life so easily? Why do you think that, though you never did a day of exercise in your life if you could avoid it, you kept up with two highly trained assassins? Why do you think you managed to survive an infection that would have killed another mortal? Your gift protected you – your latent magic protected you.”  
He stands and you shift uneasily. There’s no point in running and fighting is futile, but you will never run again. You prepare yourself for your final struggle against a foe you cannot beat.  
“When I marked you, I awoke it. Just a little, just enough for you to start working out how to use it. And you are so strong and so very clever for one of your race. You trusted in your instincts and they led you forward. I thought I would have to do all the work, put everything into you, but now I know it won’t be necessary.” 

He starts to slowly walk forward, his body language relaxed and unthreatening. But he doesn’t need to be threatening, he’s so much more powerful than you it would be a wasted effort. It’s all over, he’s going to cut you out, overwhelm your being, make you his in body, mind and soul. He’s going to cage you, trap you and never let you go. You’ll be in the dark forever and if he’s really feeling evil, he might let you watch as he uses your body for his purposes. He’s knows you’re a threat now and so he will control you utterly and remove any thought of self-determination. You’ll be his forever. 

It’s over, it’s all over…

He reaches you, smiles down at your fierce and desperate expression, takes you head in both his hands and kisses you gently on the forehead.  
“Your control with the knife is exquisite.” He says as he lets you go. “And now we can begin your training.”  
“But first.” And he smiles broadly as he says it. “Let’s go and deal with Mr Stark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so if this chapter has mistakes I apologise, but I couldn't reread it after writing, it just affected me too badly. 
> 
> The kid was convinced they were going to die throughout this chapter, or worse, would have their mind erased, or worse, would be forced to take a back seat in their head forever. As such it was very hard to write. 
> 
> It's very difficult to write helpless defiance, I've never done it before and man, it's worse than writing fight scenes. I kept having to leave the keyboard and go and do something else for a bit. Hope you guys and gals enjoyed it, it certainly stretched me as a writer.
> 
> Now this monkey is going to go and find a banana and a happy tree to sit in for a bit...


	16. Tony Stark's Desires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain America follows closely behind him and as they reach the dais Mr Stark goes to bow mockingly. But the Captain grabs him hard on the shoulder and kicks Mr Stark’s legs out from under him before he can finish the gesture of defiance.  
> “Hello Tony.” The God-King says as he leans forward on his staff. “My child tells me that you have something to say to me.”  
> “Oh Great and Powerful Oz…” Mr Stark starts to say and the God-King nods to the Captain. He punches Mr Stark hard in the face.  
> “You are in court now, Tony. This is neither the time nor the place for your irreverence.” The God-King tells him as Mr Stark spits blood onto the marble.  
> “As you say, King Loki, Son of Ming the Mercil…” Another nod, another blow.  
> “Really Tony, you’re hurting him as much as he’s hurting you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...  
> First proper introduction of sceptre controlled Captain America, more next chapter.  
> A bit of Frostiron. Only implied though, not explict and with a small amount of graphic violence thrown into the mix.  
> Tony gets what he wants, but not in the way he wanted it.  
> Loki introduces the kid to the world of morally grey areas.
> 
> I don't want to say anything else, becasue I don't want to spoil the chapter, so see the notes afterwards. Let's just say, if you've come this far then you're probably going to be fine. 
> 
> Enjoy.

*

You’re still alive. You’re still aware and free and you cannot believe it.  
Why did he do it? Why didn’t he take you for everything you are?  
Why did he let you live?

You keep glancing at the God-King as you go down the elevator to the throne room and then quickly looking away again. You know he’s noticed and he’s amused by it, but he doesn’t call attention to your nervous state. You’re in formal court leathers and he’s in his full regal costume with helm and staff. As the elevator reaches the right floor he ruffles your hair as you step out. His smile is playful, but the gesture is possessive and you look at him, searching his face to work out what he’s thinking. You’re aware you should be frightened, but you’re not. Nervous yes, definitely nervous, and incredibly tense. But any fear doesn’t touch you.  
“It will pass.” He says. “Right now you don’t know what to think, but your mind will clear, I promise you. And when it does it will be clearer than you’ve ever experienced before.”  
“What have you done?” You ask. “What was in the ice cream?”  
He laughs at your defiant tone.  
“Nothing was in the ice cream. I gave it you simply to see your reaction. Everything you are feeling right now is of your own doing. You will reach your own epiphany and when you do the world will make that little more sense.”  
You both start to walk towards the throne. 

“So… You’ve been through this, then?”  
“More than once. Believe it or not I know what it’s like to be powerless.”  
“What was the first time like?” You ask and he looks down at you thoughtfully. The silence stretches as you walk down the carpet and you think he isn’t going to say anything else, but then he seems to come to a decision.  
“The first time…” He muses. “Was the day I finally stood up to my brother.” You look at him in surprise, you hadn’t expected him to say anything like that.  
“What happened?” You ask, fully ready for him to shut down the conversation, but instead he gives a little grimace and shrugs. 

“I was fifty, about ten by your physical standards. He was older, stronger, a bully. He used to pick on me mercilessly, as did his friends. One day I just snapped and told him enough was enough.”  
“What did he do?”  
“I lost a handful of hair as he grabbed me and kneed me in the face. He broke my nose, kicked five of my ribs in and made me crawl on my belly for his forgiveness. All while his friends laughed and watched on.”  
“Shit.”  
“Father didn’t even punish him. He got a stern talking to, I was sent to the Soul Forge for a quick healing session and nothing else was said of the matter. I ended up in bed for a week, unable to leave my rooms for the shame of it. But one day I woke up with my mind clearer than it had ever been before and I went to my mother and I asked her to teach me magic.”  
“And then you got your own back?” You ask eagerly.  
“And then I learned how to be clever. I vowed never to let him put me in such a situation again.”  
“Hmmmmm…” You rub the back of your head in disappointment. You’d hoped he’d give you a clue to a way out of your present circumstance.  
“Our relationship is different.” He acknowledges.  
“Yeah. That didn’t really help me.” You admit.  
“It wasn’t meant to.”  
“Then why tell me?”  
“Because you needed to know you aren’t alone, that your situation isn’t unique.” He smiles. “But don’t expect me to make it easy for you.”  
“Thank you, Majesty.”  
“You’re more than welcome.”  
You reach the throne and kneel down by his right hand side. He runs his fingers through your hair as he sprawls in the chair and you both wait in silence for Mr Stark to arrive.

*

He walks in as cocky and defiant as ever. His wrists are bound in front of him with a tight cord that twists them one over the other and he’s still bare footed and in jogging pants. He’s already taken a beating, you can see the fresh bruises on his skin and his right eye is beginning to darken. Captain America follows closely behind him and as they reach the dais Mr Stark goes to bow mockingly. But the Captain grabs him hard on the shoulder and kicks Mr Stark’s legs out from under him before he can finish the gesture of defiance.  
“Hello Tony.” The God-King says as he leans forward on his staff. “My child tells me that you have something to say to me.”  
“Oh Great and Powerful Oz…” Mr Stark starts to say and the God-King nods to the Captain. He punches Mr Stark hard in the face.  
“You are in court now, Tony. This is neither the time nor the place for your irreverence.” The God-King tells him as Mr Stark spits blood onto the marble.  
“As you say, King Loki, Son of Ming the Mercil…” Another nod, another blow.  
“Really Tony, you’re hurting him as much as he’s hurting you.” The God-King gestures expansively. “And what is the child to think?” 

Mr Stark looks at you as you kneel next to the throne and his expression hardens as you can’t keep eye contact with him.  
“How badly did you hurt the messenger?” He asks, his voice filled with cold fury.  
“Only as much as was necessary to make sure of its loyalty.”  
“You’re a cold hearted bastard. You know that?”  
“I’ve been told, yes.” The God-King runs his fingers through your hair. “Perhaps you would like to get to the point, since this young thing has suffered for you to be here.”  
“I need to go into Stark Tower for a few bits and pieces.”  
“I know that much. I need to know what you want and why I should grant them.”  
“I need a Stark Pad primed with research into technical and global languages along with theories into alien dialects. I need a decent sized processor for number crunching and I need my set of holographic interface screens, preferably the full vista so I don’t have to turn around. It makes viewing all the data easier. All the interface stuff you’ve given me is designed for people with two thumbs. It makes it hard to work with.”  
“And your JARVIS program?”  
“Will stay in the tower, along with the suits. I’m not interested in escaping, this project you’ve given me is more than enough to keep me going for a while.” Mr Stark shrugs. “I don’t think I’d get another chance at hitting the Chitauri mind-set so comprehensively. What’s the deal with that anyway?”  
“Think of it as your second test to find out how intelligent you really are.” The God-King tells him.  
“The first was the circular power source?”  
“Very good.”  
“I’m figuring it’s a war item. Used for powering heavy duty ordinance. That was why it was so plug and play once I figured out the encryption. It means if you get overrun, you can just pull out the battery and stop anyone else using your stuff. And if the battery falls into enemy hands then the heavy encryption means they can’t use it anyway.” He smiles deprecatingly. “Unless they’re me, of course.” 

A smile twitches across the God-King’s face.  
“Anything else you require?” He asks.  
“My mp3 player.” Mr Stark sees the look of incomprehension. “A small, compact music player. Music helps me think while I work.”  
“In the scheme of things, you’re not asking for much, Tony.”  
“I’m asking you to let me back into my main base of operations, to trust me not to try anything stupid and to let me talk with JARVIS. That in itself is asking a lot, I know. But the stuff… It might not seem much to you, but it will help speed up my process and help me get over the hump in my work. I’ve reached a difficult point and fighting the interface is making things that much harder. The kid’ll back me up on this.” 

The God-King turns to you.  
“Well child?” He asks.  
“It’s true, it’s hard enough to get to grips with how the Chitauri think and communicate without having to work with tech built specially for them.” You look at the floor while you speak and really wish Mr Stark hadn’t brought you into this.  
“You understand what he’s doing?” The God-King asks, his voice clearly disbelieving.  
“Well, not all of it, no. It’s pretty intense, high grade stuff and you know I was at a regular school. But I could tell it was unravelling, I could see the progress he was making. It wasn’t hard to make out. And it’s easy to see he’s struggling with it now.”  
“But it would be simple enough to pretend so he can talk you into convincing me.”  
”Well yes and no.” You bite your lip. “If I thought he was pretending there’s no way I would have gone to you this morning. No way. I believe him – enough to disturb you and take the risk of your anger. You know I fear you, you know I wouldn’t bother you lightly. I believe him, Majesty.” You fall quiet after making such a bold announcement and you swallow hard, waiting to see what he will do.  
“From the mouths of babes.” The God-King says drily. “Very well Stark, you will be allowed back into your tower, along with myself and the child. Captain, do you have time to accompany us?”  
“The army is consolidating and moving to their next set of positions, which is Clint’s area of expertise. I have a few days R&R until I have to be back at the front.” The Captain’s voice is strangely emotionless.  
“Excellent. I could use another pair of eyes in there.”  
“I’m yours to command, General.” He nods his head emphatically as he speaks.

Mr Stark winces at the Captain’s words and gives the God-King a black look.  
“If only I could reach that steel heart of yours, Stark. Your life would be so much easier.” The God-King tells him.  
“When he gets free, he’s going to kick your ass, Loki.”  
“Keep dreaming your hero’s dreams, Tony. Whatever you need to sleep at night.” The God-King slams the base of the sceptre into the dais.  
“I draw this meeting at court, closed.” He stands and walks down the steps and you follow behind him meekly.  
“Clean him up, Captain and then have Mr Stark brought to my chambers.”  
The Captain nods and pulls Mr Stark to his feet. He drags him behind you, but waits for the next elevator as you and the God-King walk inside and head up to the eightieth floor. 

*

The next hour is a civilised one. You sit by your door and practise balancing your knife on your finger while the God-King lounges on the couch and starts to read a new book. He seems to go through one every few days, alternating between genres. Last night he finished Civilisation by Niall Ferguson and today he’s starting One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, muttering something about Nurse Ratched. Since you’ve been here he’s occasionally looked at your book with a vague interest, but he hasn’t stolen it yet and you’ve stopped reading it when he’s around to curb the temptation. You really don’t know what you’d do if he took it from you. Names are one thing, memories are something else entirely and Tina Fisher’s book is one of the few physical memories you have left. Some days you doubt if any of your memories are real. If he can take them away, who’s to say he hasn’t put a few in as well? But holding the book in your hand reassures you that some of your life actually happened the way you remember and it helps you cope. You’re glad Black Widow talked you out of leaving it behind that day in the warehouse. 

The silence is broken by a curt rap on the door.  
“Come.” The God-King puts the book on the side table and looks up expectantly. You hurriedly sheathe your knife and wait as well.  
Captain America walks in with badly beaten Mr Stark. His arms are now bound behind him instead of in front and the cord is so tight it’s eating into the skin.  
“Ah.” The God-King smiles broadly. “Thank you Captain.”  
“What time do you need me tomorrow, sir?” The man asks at the God-King stands and walks over.  
“Nice o’clock sound good to you, Tony? Or should we lie in for a while?” The God-King grabs Mr Starks jaw and moves his head sharply, inspecting the layers of bruising.  
“Sounds good to me.” Mr Stark agrees, wincing at the grip as it digs into already tender skin.  
“Nine o’clock it is then.” The God-King nods to the Captain. “Nice work, Mr Rogers, you’ve softened him up nicely.”  
“Always glad to help.” The Captain says, his voice completely sincere. “And I’ve been wanting to put Stark through his paces since I met him.” 

Tony looks hurt for a fraction of a second and then his face flickers back to defiance.  
“I know you don’t mean that, Steve. That fucking sceptre’s frozen your heart and your mind.”  
“I’ve never felt more free.” The Captain smiles. “I understand so much now, Tony. My world was so black and white, so stupid and childish. The sceptre has opened my mind to the way the world really works. To what’s really out there. We were children against the lightening, but under General Loki’s command, we might have a chance at salvaging something meaningful.”  
“You were never an Ends Justify The Means kind of guy, Cap.” Tony tell him. “What’s you’re saying right now, that’s the Green Pixie talking, not you.”  
The Captain looks to the God-King questioningly and looks disappointed when his superior shakes his head. You realise he was asking permission to hurt Mr Stark some more.  
“Nine o’clock, Captain.”  
“Bright and early.” The Captain nods. “Sleep well, sir.” He clicks his heels and closes the door smartly behind him. 

“So what happens now?” Mr Stark asks. “We all go and sit around the campfire and sing some Kumbayah until the morning comes?”  
The God-King pivots on his heel, grabs Mr Stark by the back of the head and slams it hard off the corner of the table. The man goes down stunned and the God-King pushes him onto his back.  
“There’s a small metal box on my nightstand by the bed. Bring it to me, child.” The God-King says as you whimper and move from foot to foot in distress. He glares at you. “Now!”  
“Yes, Majesty.” You bob a half bow and hurry into the room. The box is obvious, made of steel and carved with runes and you deliver it quickly. The God-King mutters a spell and the box opens. Inside are two small discs about a centimetre across. He picks one up and gives it to you.  
“Go and put this in the vase of flowers over there.” And he points to the table you hid under a few weeks ago. You do as you’re told. The God-King runs his hands tenderly over the cut on Mr Stark’s head and the man groans. 

“Did that get your attention, Tony?” The God-King asks, running his fingers down Mr Stark’s neck, trailing his blood across his skin. “Do you now understand your position adequately?”  
“Was it really necessary?” Mr Stark asks, shaking his head as if to clear it.  
“No. But I enjoyed it.” The God-King smiles. “Look at the table, Tony.”  
“What?”  
“The table with the vase of flowers, look at it.” The God-King glances at you. “Move away.”  
You do as you’re told and the God-King gestures to the vase. There’s a strange cracking sound and curves of energy start to fracture the pottery. A central sphere flexes into being and starts to tear the pieces into smaller and smaller chunks and then pull them inside and into nothing. It rips the stalks of the flowers to shreds and even pulls to water back into the centre as the liquid begins to spill from the sides. It expands out, pulling and shredding and tearing and then suddenly shrinks back into itself and disappears with a crack of ozone.  
“A singularity grenade, based on the technology of the Dark Elves from long ago.” The God-King says smiling. “Of course, theirs were rather bigger.”  
“Always with the performance issues.” Mr Stark grunts and the God-King strikes him around the face.  
“You really can’t help yourself, can you Tony?” He asks with a pitying sigh. He takes the other disc from the box and starts to play with it, running it over his fingers like he’s about to do a coin trick. He reaches down with his other hand, grasps Mr Stark’s Arc Reactor and pulls it from its housing. Mr Stark freezes as the God-King puts it down with the wires still intact. He flicks the disc up into the air, catches it between thumb and forefinger and drops it in the space in Mr Stark’s chest.  
“You play games with me tomorrow, Tony and we’ll find out if you do have a heart. And how much you need it.” The God-King replaces the reactor with a twist and a gentle pat on the glowing glass. “And if you try to remove it…” He clicks his fingers and Mr Stark flinches away. “So be good.”  
Mr Stark nods and swallows and doesn’t say anything. The God-King runs his hands over the cut on Mr Stark’s forehead.  
“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He asks, his voice full of mock concern. “Sometimes I forget my own strength.”  
“Well you didn’t trash the table, so I’ll live.” Mr Stark grunts and the God-King smiles. 

He pulls Mr Stark to his feet and gestures you over.  
“It’s time for your first real lesson, child.” He tells you. He offers the fingers covered in Mr Stark’s blood. “Taste it.” He tells you and you look at him in disgust.  
“Why?” You ask.  
“Do as I say.” The God-King says and his tone brooks no argument. So you take his hand and lick Mr Stark’s blood off his fingers.  
“Don’t swallow.” He tells you. “Not yet, let the taste linger.”  
You lick your lips and nod. You let the flavour sit on your tongue, horrible and metallic. The God-King pulls Mr Stark’s head down to his lips and licks the wound in an obscenely erotic manner. The tip of his tongue tracing the rough edges of his skin.  
“Shit, you planning on being a vampire when you grow up, twinkle toes?” Mr Stark complains, but the God-King ignores him.  
“Now, concentrate on the flavour, feel its properties, feel the life you have just consumed.” The God-King tells you and you close your eyes and concentrate.  
“This is really creepy, kids. Whatever prank you’re pulling… well Hallowe’en’s a long way yet. Maybe you should hold off until then.” You both ignore him.

The God-King reaches out and brushes the mark on your palm and you gasp as you feel the flow of magic as it moves from the God-King and into your body. And then you can feel Mr Stark as well, though the taste in your mouth. You can feel the strands of him, his emotional make-up and you know you always could do this, but the God-King has just shown you how.  
“This is… This is so weird…” You whisper.  
“You’re telling me.” Mr Stark grumbles.  
“What do you feel, child?”  
“Annoyance and a little fear…”  
“No. Look deeper. What is he made of?”  
And you do and everything becomes clear.  
“Desire. Mr Stark is made of desire.” And it’s true, the desire for perfection, the desire for complete mastery and understanding of the world around him, the desire and the need to be loved. It’s so strong it burns brightly, consumes him totally. And yet he tries to hide it away, tries to deflect it through his humour and his scathing commentary.  
“Kid? What the fuck are you doing?” Mr Stark asks and you can taste his nervousness, the tightness of his chest. The fear he suddenly has for both of you.  
“It’s okay, Mr Stark.” You say to reassure him. “It’s just an exercise, it won’t hurt you.”  
“Huh. I think I preferred it when you were imaginary.”  
You feel the tug of the God-King as he stops you drifting.  
“Concentrate.” He snaps.  
“Sorry, Majesty.” You answer contritely and you pull yourself back into the spell. 

“Now take that desire and stoke it. Raise it above his surface emotions. Take what he is and make him feel it, all of it, until he cannot control it anymore.” The God-King tells you.  
“I don’t want to hurt him.” You protest.  
“You will not hurt him, child. You have a heart, you have a conscience. You will instinctively know when to stop.” And through your connection you know that if you don’t do it, the God-King will and he will subsume and dominate Mr Stark completely.  
So you take a long breath and you feel into Mr Stark’s heart and you take his desire and you make it manifest. And Mr Stark gives a strange little noise in his throat as he reacts to what you’re doing. His face flushes a bright red and the God-King takes the man’s head in both his hands and kisses Mr Stark deeply. And as Mr Stark reciprocates the wave of desire runs over you and through you and you cry out, reaching for the table to steady yourself. You’ve never felt anything like this before, not ever and it’s completely overwhelming. You try to break away, but the God-King takes your connection and holds it in place. You struggle with him, pulling against the line like a dog on a leash.

He turns and looks at you, his smile fierce and cruel as Mr Stark’s eyes glaze over, lost to his own needs.  
“If you let him go now, he will not enjoy what will happen to him tonight. If you hold the connection he will remember and he might have regrets, but he will have fun while it lasts.”  
“You’re going to harm him.”  
“Yes. I am going to play with him and then I plan to bed him. But you are going to help him through it, because you care for him.”  
“I can’t… It’s too much…”  
“You will cope, because you have to.” The God-King tells you. “You promised you would never disappoint me. You gave your oath and it was bound by magic. You can’t back out now.”  
“But, Majesty…”  
“And I promised to teach you how to live in this new world. This is your first lesson. This new world is unforgiving of the weak, child. Prove your ability, prove your right to live.” His eyes burn with the conviction of his words. You look at him, bite your upper lip in concentration and nod in agreement.  
“Such a good child.” The God-King mutters and kisses Mr Stark again. The second wave is not as bad as the first, but you still don’t have a clue how to manage it. But you’ll figure it out somehow – for Mr Stark’s sake.

The God-King takes Mr Stark’s hand and leads him towards the bedroom. The man follows him willingly. You close the door behind them and sit on your square of carpet outside. You press your back against the wood and turn you head so that you feel the cool expanse of the varnished surface against your temple. Another wave of desire floods through you and you hear Mr Stark whimper in pleasure. It makes it better somehow, to be able to hear his reactions, to know that he’s actually enjoying himself. But is he really enjoying himself, or is all you? Are you manipulating him for the God-King, making it easier for him to take advantage? You decide you are and that morally you’re unhappy with this situation. You don’t want to be complicit in this. But at the same time you don’t want the God-King to hurt Mr Stark and this will lessen the pain, won’t it? And what will the God-King do to both of you if you let him down? 

Another surge of desire runs through you and almost tears you from your moorings. Shit, what’s it going to be like when they actually have sex? You pull your knife from the scabbard and you jab it into your palm as the next wave of desire takes you. You leave a mark, but don’t cut the skin. The pain brings you back to sharp focus, pulls you away from the overwhelming emotion, but doesn’t sever the connection. You can do this, you can manage.  
You have to. 

You sigh and put your legs out straight in front of you. Every time the desire becomes too much you use the knife to ease the tide. You can hear them laughing, hear Mr Stark’s snide comments and the God-King’s tart rejoinders. They’re enjoying themselves. This is all going to be fine. You don’t need to sleep tonight anyway… And then suddenly Mr Stark’s desire lifts beyond anything you could believe possible and you’re lost in the sensation, being lifted higher and higher and held by the wave. You push the blade into you palm until you bleed, but nothing can stop it, nothing can ease the intensity of the emotion. You hear Mr Stark crying out and you don’t know if it’s in pleasure or in pain. But you’re lost now and you can’t find your way back, caught in the surge of his need and you couldn’t break the connection if you tried…

When you come back to your senses, it’s light outside and your head is swimming. You’ve cut yourself repeatedly on the hand and both your arms but none of the wounds are deep and they’re already scabbing over. Inside the room, you can hear Mr Stark’s snores and you know they’ve finished. You clean the blade on your sleeve, put it back in the scabbard and curl up on the floor. You feel the connection as it wavers and dissipates like morning mist and you sigh in relief. You never want to do anything like that ever again. You couldn’t live with yourself...  
You hope Mr Stark will forgive you when he wakes up…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I figure that it takes Asgardians around a century to reach full growth and then they age really slowly. So fifty years for them is around ten for us. A hundred is twenty and then they stay youthful for a long time until middle age starts to kick in at around three and a half to four millennia. I don't care if it's canon or not, it's what I'm going with. 
> 
> Yeah, the Frostiron. I struggled with whether to turn this story explicit or not and then decided that, no, this was the story about the kid, not about the Avengers and decided to infer it instead. Though I am going to add dubious consent to the tags, because, yeah... really...
> 
> Plus I figured turning the scene explicit wouldn't further the stories goals or aims. I write sex *if* it's necessary, but in this case I decided it really wasn't. It was more about what Loki was making the kid do than what was happening to Tony. Though I'm sure Tony isn't going to be impressed when he comes around in the morning. 
> 
> Next chapter: What's actually going on in Stark Tower... :)


	17. Stark Tower Revisited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Who else is in Stark Tower, Tony?” The God-King asks.  
> “What?”  
> “Who else?”  
> “No one.”  
> The God-King dips his arm so your feet go below the floor and you squeal in fright. You stare up at him and force yourself not to look down.  
> “Damn it, Loki. There’s no one else here. I swear it.”  
> “Miss Potts?”  
> “She’s miles away in Washington. She took the plane the day I brought you to the Carrier.”  
> “Then who could it be?”  
> “I don’t know. Loki, let the kid go. We can talk about this.”  
> “I think I might.” He smiles at you cruelly and you start to cry.  
> “No!” Mr Stark shouts. “No. Stop it. Why are you doing this?”  
> “Get your machine to tell us who it’s been caring for these last few weeks.”  
> “JARVIS?” Mr Stark shouts at the sky.  
> “I’m afraid I cannot tell you, sir. I promised never to speak their name while your companions were in the building.”  
> “So there is someone else?” Mr Stark demands.  
> JARVIS pauses.  
> “Yes, sir.” He admits.  
> “Where?”  
> “Three floors down sir, hiding in one of the guest wardrobes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this is a long chapter. So much plot and AU explanation, plus a new mystery guest (they're name isn't in the tags, I didn't want to spoil it). And I've got to put up the rarest of rare tags: Evil Steve. Who'd have thought it? 
> 
> So summary:  
> New mystery guest.  
> More Evil Captain.  
> Tony Stark being Tony Stark. (I really love the breakfast conversation, Tony really got away from me there. :) )  
> Why the sceptre didn't work to shut down the Tesseract at the end of the Avengers.
> 
> Triggers: Reference to heights? Though I suffer from severe vertigo and it didn't get me, so not sure if it's needed.
> 
> Again at some point in this chapter the kid's feelings are so raw I had to give it a break. And I apologise for any typos, I only got to read through this once before posting and I had to skim the really emotional bits becasue they still hurt too much.

*

You’re woken up by the door opening and Mr Stark stepping over you.

“Morning, Mini Me.” He says. “Don’t you have a room to go to?”  
“This is my bed, Mr Stark.” You explain patiently.  
“Loki makes you sleep outside his bedroom door?” Mr Stark asks in disapproval.  
“It’s comfortable enough. The room’s never cold and the carpet’s really thick…”  
“Yeah, well, you really need to join a union.” A thought occurs to him. “You hear all that?” He gestures with a thumb back into the bedroom.  
“Most of it.” You agree.  
“Shit.”  
“I uh… felt most of it too. I’m really sorry, Mr Stark.”  
“What for?” He’s genuinely tired and a little confused.  
“For, uh… You know…”  
“The tasting-my-blood, magic shit?”  
“Yeah…”  
“Don’t, don’t even… It doesn’t matter, kid.”  
“I didn’t want to… I didn’t want to manipulate you like that…” You feel the tears beginning to come and you’re horrified. What if the God-King sees?

“Hey.” Mr Stark crouches down next to you and winces at the muscle pain. “Don’t even go there, kid. You did what you had to. It’s okay.”  
“No, it’s not okay. I betrayed your trust, Mr Stark.” The guilt is awful.  
“Hey. Hey. Look at me. This is war, kid. We all do crazy things when we’re at war. And I won’t say I didn’t enjoy it – a little.”  
“But you only enjoyed it because I…”  
“Hey. Enough.” Mr Stark takes your shoulder and squeezes it reassuringly. “I knew what was going to happen. The second he told Cap to take me to his ‘chambers’ I knew what was going down. Ever since we met at Stark Tower, before the fighting started, I knew what he’d do to me if he ever caught me. I mean he let me land, he let me talk with him – he flirted with me for god’s sake. And, granted, when he couldn’t take me over, he tried to kill me, but that’s just what enemies do to each other. I knew that once the dust settled, if he won and I lived…” Mr Stark sighs and ruffles your hair. You smile at him timidly. “I don’t blame you, kid. And it sure beat being drugged. Now, where’s breakfast?”  
“Hmmmmm… What time is it?”  
“No idea. Seven thirty?”  
“The servants’ll be here soon. If they’re not already prepping the meal.”  
“You have servants?”  
“The God-King does, I just benefit.”  
“Huh, well at least your jobs has perks.” He stands and stretches with a muted groan. “But seriously kid, you need to picket for a room.”  
“I should go on strike?” You ask, amused.  
“Sure, why not? I’ll help you make the sign…” He holds out his hand and helps you to your feet. Then you both head for the kitchen. 

“Is the God-King…” You trail off, not sure what to ask.  
“He’s still sleeping. He’ll be awake soon enough, though.”  
“And you didn’t try to, y’know…?” You gesture at your throat and Mr Stark gets your drift.  
“With what?” He asks and you offer him your knife. “No, kid. I don’t think it would work. And right now taking him out would be a bad idea. I hate to say it, but he’s keeping the aliens in line. Without him it would be a free-for-all.”  
“But wouldn’t it make that easier to take them out?”  
“There’s no guarantees it would make anything better. And what about Cap, what about Hawkeye or Black Widow? What about all those people out there he’s protecting with his peace treaties? No kid, we have to wait.”  
“Okay.” You sheathe your knife again, reluctantly.  
“And it shouldn’t be you, kid. That kind of stuff changes you. I’m not saying you don’t have a cause for grievance, but killing someone, especially if you have a vengeance kick going on… It’ll never bring you peace and you’ll lose something important that you’ll never get back.” He looks at you seriously. “Leave that stuff to the heroes, okay?”  
“Okay, Mr Stark.” You agree and he ruffles your hair again.  
“Okay. So, breakfast…”

The servants have already come and gone. There are covered dishes on the hot plates at the cooker.  
“Let’s see… Pancakes, toast, scrambled eggs… Where’s the bacon?” Mr Stark walks over to the fridge and opens it. “Ah-ha!”  
“We should eat what we’re given, Mr Stark.” You protest and he waves his hand at you in dismissal.  
“Ever had bacon pancakes with maple syrup?” He asks and you shake your head. “Right, it’s a done deal.” He goes to find a frying pan and you give up trying to reason with him. You pour yourself some orange juice, spread some butter on the toast and go the breakfast bar to eat.  
The room is filled with the glorious smell of bacon frying and it doesn’t take long for the scent to rouse the sleeping God-King.  
“Stark, what are you doing?” He asks as he walks in and you do your best not to stare. He’s all rumpled and pouty and his hair is all tousled. He wearing nothing but a pair of leather trousers and he looks tired but happy. Almost content. You’ve never seen him like this before and you find that it’s making you tense, you’re waiting for the façade to drop.  
“Something that will blow your tiny mind, Xena.” Mr Stark doesn’t look up from bacon. “Now don’t distract me, I have to concentrate on this cooking thing.”  
“Fine.” The God-King looks at you. “No, you eat at the table today.” You nod and slip off the stool, heading for the table by the window. 

The God-King goes and gets the newspaper folded on the side for him and pours himself a coffee. He leans on the counter and reads while blowing on his drink to cool it and waiting for Mr Stark to finish. It’s all weirdly domestic and you sip at your juice and watch the two of them carefully. There’s no way this is going to end quietly. Mr Stark finishes making the bacon and piles up three plates with pancakes and syrup. He balances them haphazardly and carries them over.  
“Try this, Short Stuff.” He tells you and you glance at the God-King for permission. “Ignore him, he has no taste in breakfasts.”  
“Really, Stark, I give you one night of freedom…” The God-King stalks over and takes his plate and sniffs it in distaste.  
“Go on, it smells good, you know it.” Mr Stark goes and gets the cutlery. He sits down beside you and starts to dig in heartily. The God-King sits down with far more dignity, takes the knife and fork and cuts off the smallest piece possible. He tastes it, chewing thoughtfully and looks surprised.  
“See, I told you.” Mr Stark crows between mouthfuls.  
You still haven’t touched yours, keeping your hands firmly on your lap until told otherwise. You look at the God-King and he nods. You pick up your knife and fork and start to eat. 

“So, Stark. What’s the plan for today?”  
“Well first, when did you stop calling me Tony? Did I hurt your feelings at some point during our great kinky romp last night?”  
“Be serious now, Tony.” The God-King says archly, but the change in name is a small win and you all know it.  
“Hey, I’m always serious…” Mr Stark starts to say and the God-King leans forward, glances at Mr Stark’s chest and clicks his fingers. The man goes suddenly, deathly quiet.  
“Way to kill the mood, Voldemort.” Mr Stark sighs. “And after I make you bacon and everything.”  
“We had fun.” The God-King admits. “But now it’s time to be an adult again.”  
“Huh.” Mr Stark sighs. “Kid, can you get me some coffee?”  
You glance at the God-King and he nods again before you get out of the chair. Mr Stark might be playing happy families, but you’re not risking it.  
“You may have a cup as well.” The God-King tells you.  
“Thank you, Majesty.” You give him a stiff half bow and head for the percolator. 

“What is this Victorian England?” Mr Stark complains as you add the milk and sugar at the counter.  
“The child understands the importance of manners, Tony. That is all.” The God-King says with condescension as you walk back to the table.  
“Would you like a refill, Majesty?” You ask and he hands you his empty cup. He gives Mr Stark a smug smile but the man is not impressed.  
“I’m getting vibes of Spare The Rod Spoil The Child here.” He says angrily. “And what’s the deal with making the kid sleep on the floor in front of your room?”  
“Everyone has their place in my court, Tony. You’d do well to learn yours.”  
“Hey I know mine, I’m the tech wizard advisor.” Mr Stark takes his coffee off the table and has a large mouthful.  
“I was thinking along the lines of my jester. I could get you a very fetching red hat with gold bells on it.” The God-King grins.  
“Now who’s not being an adult?” Mr Stark asks and the God-King shrugs.  
You come back to the table, give the God-King his coffee and scoot back to your place so you can finish your pancakes.

“So what are your plans, Tony? And I warn you if you deviate from them in the slightest...”  
“Hey, I can’t fully guarantee anything here. I’ve no clue how much damage the Tesseract has done to my lovely, self-sustaining building.”  
“Do your best.” The God-King says and you shiver from his tone.  
“Well, we’re going in under Protocol Four. That means JARVIS lets us into the party rooms, the penthouse and the garage and nowhere else.”  
“Why?”  
“You don’t want me poking around my place of work and I don’t want you in there either. This way we won’t have to cross that bridge at all.”  
“Why Protocol Four?” The God-King asks while eating more of the pancakes.  
“It’s my, um… Dating protocol.” Mr Stark looks uncomfortable. “It means when I’m bringing someone back they can’t snoop around too much, but they can gaze lovingly at all my vintage cars.” He looks at the God-King as if something just occurred to him. “You want a royal gift? I have this dark green Lotus that I know you’ll love.”  
“You’re letting me into your house as if I’m your date?”  
“Hey you and Cap. We could have some fun. I’m sure I have some cars that he’ll remember from a long time ago in a galaxy far far away…” Mr Stark stops. “Has he even seen Star Wars yet?”  
“No. I haven’t either. The whole Jedi ideal seems tedious and the Sith are children.” The edge to the God-King’s voice would make you back down instantly, but Mr Stark ploughs on regardless.  
“So you’ve had a look then?” He asks while taking another swig of coffee.  
“I have put some research into your culture. Your entertainment ideals of aliens is patronising and, if I’m honest, tiresomely naive.”  
“What, you don’t even identify with Vader?” Mr Stark asks, completely sincere in his questions and seemly oblivious to the hole he’s digging for himself.  
“Why would I identify with a crippled idiot who couldn’t even see that the Emperor and Senator Palpatine were the same man? And the fight scene at the end of the third film – don’t they even understand tactics? Great galactic warriors? I don’t think so.”  
“So you have seen them?” Mr Stark says triumphantly and the God-King sighs.  
“Yes, Tony, I did watch them. Well done, gold stars all round.” He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Now can we please stick to the point?” 

“Right. So I called it Protocol Four because it sounds flashy and doesn’t give away that I’m, y’know, only giving them a limited tour. Most people only want to see the garage and the penthouse anyway…”  
“But don’t you want things that will be in your workshop?”  
“No. I have a spare set of interface screens in my garage and I can download what I need onto the StarkPad in my bedroom. The processor doesn’t have to be flashy, I can grab a few things around the office to get what I need. I’m shoestringing deliberately, so that you know I’m not up to anything dodgy.”  
“Shoestringing?”  
“Keeping everything down to a minimum requirement.”  
The God-King nods in agreement. 

“And what about JARVIS?” He presses Mr Stark for an answer.  
“I’ll tell him to make you all at home and you can enjoy my drinks cabinet and poke around to your heart’s content while I get what I need. Though I’m probably going to need the Cap’s wonderful physique to carry the screens into one of the cars. Did I mention the dark green Lotus?”  
“Yes, Tony.”  
“Right. And once we leave I’ll put JARVIS back into defensive mode so they’re be no more visits for anyone without me around.”  
“Don’t you trust me, Tony?” The God-King smiles.  
“This way, no one gets in or out, you don’t have to worry about me leaving it wide open for any of my friends to sneak in and frankly I think you’d prefer it if JARVIS kept out of your hair. It’s why you’re here rather than there, right? I mean, Stark Tower is way more comfortable than here.”  
“I like the décor here. It has history and elegance.”  
“Huh.” Tony shrugs. “There’s no accounting for taste. I mean I know you’re an alien and all, but honestly? This place doesn’t not compare…”  
“Tony!” The God-King snaps and you sit to attention at his tone. He glances at you, smiles and raises his hand to show his anger is not aimed in your direction. Mr Stark doesn’t miss the gesture and he frowns again. It’s nice to see him so protective, but doesn’t he realise how vulnerable it leaves him? Again you feel a surge of guilt, you’re letting the God-King manipulate him very effectively and Mr Stark doesn’t even realise it. 

“Please stick to the point, Tony.” The God-King says in a much calmer tone.  
“Sure. So I get us in under my dating protocol. You guys can poke around while I get my stuff. Then I lock down Stark Tower again and go back to my cosy cell. You might get a gift of a very nice car, if you play your cards right, and Cap can have my Star Wars DVD collection. That simple enough for you, Obi Wan?”  
“Simple enough, Tony.” The God-King agrees. He stands and goes to the hot plates for the toast and scrambled eggs. “Do you want anything else to eat?”  
“Yeah, I think I’ll stock up while I can.” Mr Stark gets up for a second helping of just pancakes and syrup, since you’ve all eaten the bacon. “You want anything, kid?”  
“Is there any fruit salad?” You ask.  
“In the fridge.” The God-King tells you. “You can have as much as you want.”  
“Thank you, Majesty.”  
“You see, Tony? Manners.” The God-King says sarcastically and Mr Stark grimaces.  
“I don’t care what you do. I am never calling you a god, or a king.”  
“You did last night.”  
“No I said ‘oh god’, it’s completely different.” Mr Stark goes and snags the last of the coffee.  
“Say what you like, Tony. We both know you meant it.”  
“Whatever keeps you warm and fuzzy inside, Kermit.” Mr Stark goes back to the table and lets you in first with your bowl of fruit and a glass of milk. “Way to go on the healthy option, Short Stuff. Now if you don’t mind, Loki, I’d like to concentrate on my breakfast.”  
“As you wish.” The God-King retrieves his paper and you all sit down to eat like a real family.  
Quietly you squirrel this memory away for later and hope Mr Stark comes down for meals more often.

*

“Hey, baby. You miss me?” Tony asks as they stand outside the main front doors to Stark Tower. You’ve forgotten how big it was and stare up and up in awe. Everything feels bigger now, after being stuck inside for so long. The streets are almost deserted, with just a few men and women around with big yellow badges on their shirts, salvaging what they can from the remains of the wrecked buildings. They have wheelbarrows and hand carts and are sifting through carefully. Most of the rubble on the roads has been cleared away and the second the people see you, they turn and run in the opposite direction, leaving their stuff behind in their haste. It’s so quiet it’s eerie. There’s a Chitauri ship in the sky, another new arrival from the portal but there are only a few of the gliders in the air. This close to Stark Tower, you can’t see the sky at all.

“Get on with it, Tony.” Captain America grumbles and Mr Stark steps forward to the intercom and keypad. His fingers run over the numbers smoothly and he leans into the grill.  
“Morning JARVIS.” He says succinctly, enjoying every moment. “Protocol Four, buddy.”  
“Excellent choice, sir, given your companions. And may I say that I am extremely relieved to find out you are still alive.”  
“The feeling’s mutual.” Mr Stark agrees.  
The doors slide open and the Captain gives you a rough push as you all move forward. He’s been bullying you since you stepped outside and you’re beginning to seriously dislike him. It’s not like you have anywhere to run to, the God-King can track you so what would be the point? But he keeps acting as if you need to be chaperoned everywhere and kept a close eye on. Probably some throwback to the forties or something. You all head straight for the elevator.  
“Okay, kids. Up or down?” Mr Stark asks playfully.  
“Up first I think.” The God-King says. “We’ll leave the monitors for last.”  
“As you say, All Great and Powerful Oz.” Mr Stark nods. “You heard the guy, JARVIS.”  
“Of course, sir.” And the lift starts to go up. 

“I’d watch that lip, Tony.” The Captain threatens and Mr Stark looks at him coolly.  
“Or what, you’ll slap me on the cheek again like the big girl you are?” He asks and the Captain bristles and takes a step forward.  
“Enough.” The God-King says, his voice hard and they both relent. He makes a motion with his right hand and the sceptre appears in his grip with a shimmer of golden light. He raises it high and presses the tip to the ceiling.  
“What’s the deal with that?” Mr Stark asks, eyeing the weapon speculatively.  
“And how did you expect to get through the Tesseract barrier?” The God-King asks. “It’s a full sphere, Tony. The lift would not survive.”  
“Right.” Mr Stark nods. “I figured you had something up your sleeve.”  
The God-King smiles at him smugly. He looks down at you.  
“Stand close.” He orders and you move to his side, almost but not quite touching his leather coat. He puts a hand on the back of your neck and strokes you with his finger tips as the elevator continues going upward. 

You’re not quite sure why they’ve brought you along, but you aren’t complaining. You’ve always wanted to see the inside of Stark Tower. Even if it’s just the penthouse – especially if it’s just the penthouse. Your friends at school will be so jealous…  
You wince at the pang of pain in your heart. Occasionally, for whole moments at a time, you forget what your life has become. Even now, after everything you’ve been through, the thoughts sometimes bubble up, unbidden. It really sucks. You really miss your mum and dad. You look at your shoes and wait for the feelings of loss to pass.

And then the sceptre hits the Tesseract and you squeal with fear. It’s an explosion of energy, loud and filled with sparks. Even the Captain flinches away. The sceptre makes its own barrier around the four of you, a shimmering gold against the hard, solid blue. The elevator groans under the strain as the sceptre’s light encompasses it as well, allowing it to continue its upward movement. You look at the God-King and his face is mask of concentration from the effort of keeping you all alive. You find yourself instinctively reaching out to understand what he’s feeling and his mind slaps you away, hard. You whimper and stagger, gripping his coat to keep your footing. Mr Stark catches your hand.  
“You okay?” He mouths and you nod, looking up at him and smiling to ease his concern.  
And then you’re through and the elevator starts to rise smoothly again. 

“So the question of the day is how, if the Tesseract has a barrier that thick and powerful around the whole top of my building, does the elevator work?” Mr Stark asks thoughtfully, looking up.  
The God-King supplies the answer.  
“When the Tesseract expanded its energies, the power of the barrier dissipated.” He says. “So it didn’t cut through the walls, or the cables but formed around them and then solidified once it reached its new size.”  
“So the barrier’s formed back underneath us now?” You ask. “Where the cables were?”  
Both Mr Stark and the God-King look at you with surprise.  
“Yes.” The God-King agrees.  
“So, how are we going to get back down?” You ask, trying not to panic.  
“The same way we got up.” Mr Stark supplies.  
“But when the Tesseract reforms, won’t it cut the cables above us as we go down?” You ask, the unforgiving logic of the situation very clear in your mind.  
“I will hold the elevator with the power of the sceptre and we will change lifts.” The God-King tells you. “If that problem occurs.”  
“It might not?” You ask hopefully.  
“The Tesseract may have gone back to the way it was, so still have the holes where the cables were.” Mr Stark says helpfully and you nod.  
“Okay.” You give a deep breath of relief.

“But full marks for the technical question, kid.” Mr Stark smiles with approval. “Why the hell were you in regular class?”  
“Because, before the child came into my care, it did not apply itself properly.” The God-King says in mild disapproval and you look down at your shoes.  
“He’s right. I kind of coasted, Mr Stark.” You admit.  
“Well, if this ever ends, I’m going to get you a scholarship somewhere. We need more practical minds in academia.”  
“It will end, Tony. When I am King of this Realm.” The God-King says and Mr Stark makes a face. “At which time the child will be firmly under my tutelage until it reaches adulthood.”  
You look at Mr Stark bleakly.  
“Talk about your school of hard knocks.” The man says disapprovingly.  
“You never heard of tough love, Tony?” The Captain says in derision. “Looks like it’s exactly what this kid needs to flourish.”  
“Yeah, ‘cause child abuse is always the best way to get your point across.” Mr Stark says angrily. “Why are you even torturing this kid, Cruella? Don’t you have better things to do with your time?”  
“You’d rather I killed it?” The God-King asks calmly and you hunch in on yourself and bite your bottom lip. You so want this conversation to end.  
“’Cause there are only two options in this world?” Mr Stark snaps. “Kill or enslave?”  
“Which option did I choose for you, Tony?” The God-King asks and Mr Stark goes quiet. He glances at you, sees how tense you are and sighs.  
“Sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to scare you.”  
“It’s okay, Mr Stark.” You say meekly and the God-King starts stroking the back of your neck again to calm you down.  
“See, you’re just distressing the child. And on their first real trip outside since the war for the city ended.” The God-King tuts in mock disapproval. “Really, Tony. You should show more self-restraint.”  
The rest of the trip goes silently as Mr Stark fumes in the corner.

*

The penthouse is amazing. It’s all floor to ceiling glass walls, and elegant furniture and expensive artwork. You just want to run around, touching everything. And the space… After being confined for so long to just a few rooms and corridors the open plan area is just unbelievable. You turn on your heel, trying to take everything in and you can feel the adult’s humour in your reaction. Even Mr Stark seems to cheer up from your wide-eyed wonder and he offers to give you the tour.  
“Later.” The God-King says and you can’t hide your disappointment. “Get what you need first, Tony. Then we’ll see.”  
“Please…” You beg him and you’re both surprised at your childish tone. The God-King shakes his head in amusement.  
“Very well, if you behave.” He allows and you smile.  
“I promise.”  
“Now go and amuse yourself, but don’t be a nuisance.” He tells you. “And don’t touch anything.”  
“You can touch what you want, kid.” Mr Stark contradicts him, but you look up at the God-King and he knows you won’t disobey him.  
“Go on.” He says gently and you bounce away in excitement.

It’s takes about ten minutes to fully work out the space available to you. There are other doors, leading to private rooms, but you don’t dare go inside without permission. There’s the massive ramp that leads outside to where Mr Stark used to take off in his suit, but some instinct keeps you away. You find yourself gravitating to the giant, clear, glass walls and start to pace them while looking out at the expanse of New York below. It’s not as much of a smoking crater as you feared, there’s evidence of rebuilding and from this height you can see the clean-up crews all around sorting through the important stuff. You even see a medical team in an ambulance making their way from A to B without any interference from the looming ship up above. You stop dead when you reach the broken window and, with great daring, you peer outside. It’s a long way down. You can see the blue line on the side of the building where the Tesseract touches the wall. If you were to fall, you’d hit that first, not the ground. But its thirty stories down, you’d still splat pretty convincingly. 

“Tony Stark made that hole.” The Captain says coming up behind you and making you jump. “The General threw him out just as the portal opened.”  
“He threw him out of his own house?” You ask and the Captain laughs.  
“With extreme prejudice.”  
“Good job he was wearing a suit.”  
“From the way I heard it, he wasn’t wearing a suit when he went out of the window. But he managed to call one to him before he hit the ground.”  
“Wow.” You touch the pieces left in the frame. They’re safety glass and there are no sharp edges. They’re also several centimetres thick. “That must have really hurt.”  
“Stark’s tough all right. I’ll give him that.” The Captain gives you a look you don’t trust and suddenly you’re nervous. You glance around and realise the God-King and Mr Stark have left the main space.  
“We’re all by ourselves.” The Captain agrees and you take a few steps away from him. 

The Captain watches you move away from the open window. There’s no wind, the Tesseract must have enclosed this whole space from the fresh atmosphere outside and suddenly the room feels airless and close. Or maybe it’s the Captain being in such a near proximity. He’s not dressed in his red, white and blue suit, you haven’t seen it since the God-King took him over. Instead he favours a dark leather sleeveless jacket, laced down the front, with matching trousers that seem far more comfortable. Under the armour he has on a brown shirt made from an expensive, hard wearing fabric and he wears his shield on his back, abraded until it is just a flat, matt silver disk. He looks like a medieval prince, with his blonde hair loose and growing out of its military cut and his cold, cold, blue eyes.  
“Come back here.” He says calmly and you shake your head.  
“Not while you’re near the broken window.” You tell him and he looks at the opening with amusement.  
“Okay, that’s fair.” He agrees. “You want something to drink? I could do with something to drink.” He walks towards the bar, his body language casual and you follow him, but at a safe distance.  
“Water please.” You say. “Or maybe a soda if there is one.”  
The Captain goes through the cabinet and frowns.  
“Hmmmm… It’s pretty bare.” He finds some scotch in the bottom and pours himself a measure. “Cranberry juice okay?”  
“That’s fine, Mr America.” You agree. He smiles at your words.  
“Call me Captain.” He says, finding a tumbler and pouring your drink.  
“Okay, Captain.”  
He puts the glass of juice on the side so you have to get up real close to get it. You look at him nervously and creep forward. As you reach for the drink you expect him to grab you, but he doesn’t, he just sips his scotch and watches you and you’ve no idea of what he’s thinking.

“Are you mad at me?” You ask as the silence stretches to an unbearable level.  
“Should I be mad at you?” The Captain asks.  
“I don’t know. I’m being good, I’m doing everything the God-King says.”  
“Then you don’t have anything to worry about, do you?” He says and his voice sounds reasonable. But his eyes are burning behind the blue ice and there’s something uncontained about him. Something that just wants to hurt you, for no reason at all. You put the glass of juice down carefully and push it to the centre of the bar so it won’t get knocked off and smashed.  
“What are you doing?” The Captain asks.  
“I’m putting my drink aside so that when you hit me it won’t get broken.” You say as calmly as you can.  
“You think I’m going to hit you?”  
“I know you’re going to hit me.”  
“Why?”  
“Because you can, because there’s no one in the room to tell you no. Because you want to.” You say and you meet his gaze as bravely as you can, though inside you’re cowering in fear. “So I’d like you to get it over with, please.” 

The Captain snorts. He finishes his scotch and pours himself another.  
“Not today.” He says.  
“No?” You ask hopefully.  
“Tomorrow.”  
“What?”  
“I’m going to beat the shit out of you tomorrow.” He promises, his voice still casual, like he’s talking about the weather. He looks down at your hand and catches your wrist.  
“My, you’re skinny.” He says in disapproval. “I’m going to have to get some smaller manacles.” He lets you go as if you aren’t worth the effort.  
“Or maybe you can just use the cord, like you did on Mr Stark.” You say distantly.  
“No. That’s might do you permanent damage. Like I say, Stark’s tough. But you’re too weak to hack it.” He looks you up and down speculatively. “I could kill you with a sneeze.”  
You swallow hard and look at your feet. Then you look back up at him and take your cranberry juice back. He’s like the God-King, if he sees any weakness, he’ll make you pay for it. You can’t give him an inch, can’t let him see how scared you really are.

“Why tomorrow?” You ask.  
“Because tomorrow the General gives you to me for training.” The Captain smiles darkly. “He thinks you need a little incentive to learn how to fight.”  
“You’re going to train me?” You ask, unconvinced.  
“I’m going to evaluate you and then find you the right tutor to play to your strengths.”  
“And beating me up will help with that how?”  
“Endurance evaluation. Most important one of the lot, and the most fun.” He lifts the glass to look at the liquid inside and then downs it in one. “I’m gonna make you scream for your mummy, kid.”  
“My mum’s dead.” You reply defiantly and he grins.  
“Perfect.” He says as if the information satisfies him immensely. “Your dad too?”  
You don’t say anything.  
“The little orphan, taken in by a God, trained by an Avenger. There’s lots of kids who’d queue to be in your place.”  
“Most kids are dumb.” You answer and he looks at you with that same speculative quality. You wish he’d just hit you and be done with it.  
“Now I understand what he sees in you.” The Captain nods. “Most kids your age would be crying right now, begging me not to. Or in denial, trying to pretend I’m just joking, that I don’t mean it.”  
“I know you mean it.” You say and take a mouthful of your drink. “So there’s no point in doing either.”  
The Captain pours himself another scotch, the alcohol doesn’t seem to touch him in the slightest.  
“I’m going to enjoy getting to know you properly.” He says. He lifts the almost empty decanter. “You want to go and find me something else?”  
“Sure. Give me a minute.” Any excuse to get away from him. 

The Captain watches your progress as you check the few shelves of the drinks cabinet he missed and then move to the next cupboard along. You know he’s toying with you, gauging your reactions, seeing how desperate you are to keep him happy. And tomorrow he gets to beat you, brilliant, wonderful, another betrayal hand-wrapped and delivered by the God-King. You do everything he asks, try your very best to give him no reason to find fault and he still gives you over to an insanely strong warrior thug for ‘evaluation’. What needs to be evaluated anyway? You can already truthfully say that you’re crap with any type of weapon or any way of self-defence. That you can take an elevated kicking and still somehow keep going. That you find all forms of physical violence absolutely terrifying. Why does he need Captain America to work that out? It’s just another way of proving the fact that you have absolutely no control over your life.

You find yourself getting angry, slamming the cupboards just a little too hard as you rifle through the room. It really is bare in here, didn’t Mr Stark have anything put aside before the war started? And then you stop and reopen the door you just checked. Inside is a bowl of half eaten spaghetti and soup. The fork has fallen out and sprayed the interior with gunk. You reach out and touch it and the ceramic is still warm.  
“What is it?” The Captain asks and you close the door carefully.  
“Nothing.” You say, trying to sound casual. “Just another empty decanter.”  
The Captain pushes off the counter and walks towards you.  
“Try again.” He tells you.  
“It’s nothing, Captain. Really.” You stand in front of the cupboard and shrug. “I’ll find you something, I promise.” There’s someone else alive in here and you don’t want the Captain or the God-King to know. Maybe they’ll get the drop on them and rescue you and Mr Stark, or at the very least escape capture for longer. You don’t want anyone else falling into their hands, you instinctively want to protect them.  
“Don’t give me that.” The Captain sneers. “Out of the way, let me see.”  
“It’s nothing…” You try again and the Captain picks you up by the scruff of your tunic and effortlessly throws you across the room. You’re too surprised to scream, and the breath is knocked out of you as you hit the floor twenty feet away and slide against a pane of glass. You try to stand and find that you can’t. Your whole side is a wall of agony and you sprained your wrist trying to catch yourself.  
The Captain has the bowl in his hands.  
“General.” He says quietly. “I need you in here.” 

You watch them talking quietly. It’s weird, like they don’t actually need to vocalise everything and you can’t keep up with the bits of conversation you hear. Then they both look at you and your heart literally stops in your chest for the space of two heartbeats. They walked up to you and you’re struck at the similarity of their pace, the casual stride and the identical body language. It’s like an episode of the Body Snatchers – eerie and unnatural. No wonder the Captain has started wearing leather, he’s heavily under the influence of the God-King. There’s no way it could be the other way around. They stand over you, looking down like you’re an insect to crush under their heel and you cower in fear. 

The God-King lifts the bowl.  
“You tried to hide this.” It’s not a question.  
“I… No I… Was just surprised… I needed a moment to think…” You stutter out.  
He looks down at you with that impassive expression and you know you are in a lot of trouble.  
“Please, Majesty, I’ve been good all day. I’ve done everything you wanted. I was just surprised. Please, please…” You reach out and touch his shoe with your good hand, stroking it, begging him for mercy.  
“I’ll leave the punishment up to you, Captain, when you take it for training tomorrow.” He tilts his head slightly. “If the child survives the next half hour.”  
“Understood. Thank you, General.” The Captain takes the bowl and walks back to bar to put it down. 

The God-King doesn’t move, doesn’t take his eyes off you. His jaw is tight with anger and you struggle to think of any way to appease him. You reach out with your mind, touching his gently, pleading with him and he slaps you down so forcefully you cry out in pain.  
“No.” He says.  
“I’m sorry.” You whimper. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”  
“Shut up.”  
You go quiet, looking up at him. He’s really angry and you might not survive the next half hour. How do these things change so quickly? Half an hour ago he was stroking your neck and letting you be a child, now he was sentencing you like an adult.  
“It was just one mistake. You promised, you promised. You said you’d understand I might make mistakes. Please, Majesty, please…”  
“Are you ready, Captain?” He asks.  
“Absolutely.”  
The God-King reaches down and picks you up by the throat, effectively silencing you. He presses you against the glass and you choke and struggle as he lifts you a few inches off the ground. Your own weight is killing you, his fingers are so hard, so tight, but he isn’t crushing you. You’re the one forcing your larynx against his hand and you instinctive kick at the wall to lift yourself a little and gain some air. The pain in your side is obscene and your movement forces a muffled shout of pain from your lungs, making you go limp for a minute. It doesn’t help your cause and can’t get any purchase with your feet on the smooth surface of the glass. You’re going to pass out before you die, either from asphyxiation or from the agony of your side and the God-King is still watching you impassively. 

“Machine called JARVIS.” The God-King says.  
“Yes, sir?”  
“Call your, Master. Tell him if he is not out in this room in the next five minutes I will throw the child off the side of the building.”  
Oh shit. You look at him and he looks at you and there is no question of his intent. He means it.  
You heave and you kick and you struggle, despite the awful pain and he allows himself a slight twitch of a smile as he watches you.  
“I have done so, sir. Though may I ask if there is any way I can reason with you to stop you doing such a terrible thing to a helpless child?”  
“Who is in these rooms JARVIS?” The God-King asks.  
“Yourself, Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America, Mr Stark and the child you are about to kill. I would recommend allowing them to breathe or they will not alive in five minutes time.”  
“Who else?”  
“There is no one else, sir.”  
“You are a good liar, JARVIS.” The God-King says in approval. “If I did not have the evidence, I would be convinced.” 

The God-King drops you and you try to run the second you hit the floor. You’re high on adrenaline and the pain has eased to almost nothing as your body tries to survive. He’s ready for it and casually grabs your bad wrist as you take your first few steps. He yanks you back and you fall to your knees in front of him, sobbing in fear.  
“Majesty.” You grab the cloth of his shirt in supplication. “Majesty, please.”  
He bats your hand away and lifts you by your arm to your feet. There’s no mercy there, no pity at all. He seems to be enjoying himself.  
He turns and starts dragging you towards the ramp. You fight back, twisting away and trying to bite his hand and he strikes you so hard you see stars. You stumble but you can’t fall, your forward motion is too great and you keep your feet as he strides towards his goal. Your legs aren’t as long and you run to keep up, panting and pleading with him as he pulls you up the ramp and towards your death. 

He stops at the summit, bringing you in front of him so that you face each other. He smiles at you tenderly and lifts your jaw with his fingers. You look up at him, shaking in terror, but you can’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. You glance down at the edge and he follows your gaze. You bite your bottom lip and look back at him. He lets go of your arm so that his other hand encompasses the back of your head, twining with your hair and he kisses you softly on the forehead. He’s saying goodbye and your bladder gives way and you wet yourself in fear. He looks down, frowns slightly and then nods in understanding.  
“Farewell, child.” He says and takes you firmly by the tunic. He lifts you carefully off your feet, straightens his arm and holds you off the building.  
“Loki stop!” Mr Stark is running across the room and the Captain catches him as he gets half way up the ramp. 

“Who else is in Stark Tower, Tony?” The God-King asks.  
“What?”  
“Who else?”  
“No one.”  
The God-King dips his arm so your feet go below the floor and you squeal in fright. You stare up at him and force yourself not to look down.  
“Damn it, Loki. There’s no one else here. I swear it.”  
“Miss Potts?”  
“She’s miles away in Washington. She took the plane the day I brought you to the Carrier.”  
“Then who could it be?”  
“I don’t know. Loki, let the kid go. We can talk about this.”  
“I think I might.” He smiles at you cruelly and you start to cry.  
“No!” Mr Stark shouts. “No. Stop it. Why are you doing this?”  
“Get your machine to tell us who it’s been caring for these last few weeks.”  
“JARVIS?” Mr Stark shouts at the sky.  
“I’m afraid I cannot tell you, sir. I promised never to speak their name while your companions were in the building.”  
“So there is someone else?” Mr Stark demands.  
JARVIS pauses.  
“Yes, sir.” He admits.  
“Where?”  
“Three floors down sir, hiding in one of the guest wardrobes.”  
“JARVIS, take me there, now.” He looks at the Captain. “You want to come as well?”  
“I think we all will.” The God-King says. He lifts you back onto solid ground and lets you go. He shoos you away. “Go on, run along.” You stumble away from him, still bawling like a babe, your chest heaving with frightened sobs. You reach Mr Stark and the Captain and you stop and dance backwards. You don’t want to get within arms-reach of any of them. The Captain laughs at you and Mr Stark’s eyes are filled with pity. 

You reach the bottom of the ramp and try to get around them, but the Captain catches you.  
“Come one, kid. Elevator.” He says.  
“No.” You whimper. “I don’t want to. Let me go, please let me go.” There’s no way you want to be in an enclosed space with all of them. You want to run and run and never look back.  
“The kid doesn’t have to come. It isn’t necessary.” Mr Stark says.  
“The child stays with us.” The God-King says and you cower from him and pull at the Captain’s grip. And then the Captain pushes you casually into the elevator and you press yourself into a corner and try not to touch any of them. The God-King gives you a handkerchief.  
“Clean yourself up.” He says and you start to wipe at your face pathetically. Mr Stark looks at you, but you can’t meet his gaze. You’re not okay and you don’t need his pity or his comfort right now.  
You fucking hate all of them. 

The lift doesn’t take long to go three floors and the God-King gestures you out in front of them. You stomp ahead, giving JARVIS’s instructions half an ear. You stop at the right door and you look from face to face questioningly as they catch up.  
“Have you warned them of our presence, machine?” The God-King asks.  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Is they still in the wardrobe?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Bring them out, child.” The God-King tells you and you glare at him.  
“What, you almost throw me from the roof and now I’m useful again?” You snap and he raises his hand and you take a step back. “Don’t.”  
“Then do as you are told.”  
“Why? I’m good all day and then I make one mistake and you...”  
“I’m making a list, kid. You shouldn’t add to it.” The Captain tells you and you scowl at him as well.

“Okay.” You say as Mr Stark is about to open his mouth. You don’t need him defending you. “One condition.”  
“Speak.” The God-King says, sighing.  
“No matter who it is you don’t take them over. You don’t use the sceptre. They know who you are and they’re damn well terrified. You don’t need to do it, so you won’t.”  
“Child…”  
“That’s my condition.” You insist and dig your heels in. The God-King looks down at you and smiles at your fierce expression.  
“You are such a foolish and brave little cub. Very well. Bring them out and I will allow them their will.”  
“Promise me.” You say and the God-King gives you a sardonic smile. You lift your palm with the mark on it. “Touch my hand and promise me.”  
“I’m not renegotiating.” He tells you.  
“I know, but its shows your goodwill. Makes it more than just words.” Your eyes lock again and you feel him brushing your mind. You steel yourself against him, ready for any attack or punishment. He chuckles and touches your palm.  
“I give you my word.” He says and you feel the tingle run down to your elbow. You feel the truth to his words and you nod.  
“Okay.” You agree. “I’ll do it.”

The room is locked, but the Captain makes short work of the handle and the metal piece screwed into the doorframe comes away, mangled under the strain. He steps back, bow to you sarcastically and you push your way into the room. The door moves on well-oiled hinges and the light switch is exactly where your hand searches for it. As you walk in the door swings shut again behind you. There’s a well-appointed bed, with an expensive oak sideboard and a deep wardrobe set at the far side of the room. You walk across and knock on the thick wood. You hear a frightened cry inside and the sound of movement.  
“It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” You say. “But I’m going to open the door now, so please don’t rush me. The people outside wouldn’t be very happy if you did.”  
“Who are you?”  
“I’m… I’m just a kid. I’ve been sent in to talk you round, as a show of goodwill.” You pause but there’s no answer. “Okay. I’m opening the door now…”

There’s an older man inside, tall and wearing a blue plaid shirt. His hair is receding and he has the start of a paunch, but he looks real strong all the same, like a bear. He could take you out if he wanted to. But it’s obvious he isn’t going to, he’s scared, absolutely rigid with fear and he doesn’t look like the type of guy who would hit a kid.  
“Hi.” You say quietly.  
“Is He outside?” He asks and you don’t need to know who he’s talking about.  
“Yes.” You say.  
“Anyone else?”  
“Captain America, but he’s not himself. He’s been…” You gesture to your chest and the man nods.  
“The sceptre.”  
“Yeah.” You nod. “And Mr Stark’s out there too.”  
“Tony Stark?” You nod. “Has he been…?”  
“No. Mr Stark is Mr Stark. I don’t think it’s possible for him to be anyone else.”  
The man smiles at that.  
“Any news about Jane or Darcy?” He asks and you shake your head.  
“I don’t know who they are, sorry. Were they in New York?”  
“New Mexico.”  
“Then they’re fine. We haven’t got that far yet.” You tell him and he sighs in relief.  
“That’s good to know.” He steps out of the wardrobe and you back off to give him room. He holds out his hand. “I’m Erik Selvig.”  
“Please to meet you Mr Selvig.” You take his hand and shake it. “I don’t have a name. The God-King Loki calls me ‘child’ and Mr Stark alternates between ‘Short Stuff’, ‘Mini Me’ or ‘kid’ so take your pick.” 

“What happened to your name?” He asks gravely.  
“The God-King took it.” You tell him and he nods as if it is the most natural thing in the world.  
“The gods can be cruel.” He agrees.  
“He won’t take you over, he promised me.”  
“He’s the God of Lies.” Mr Selvig points out.  
“I know, but I made him swear on my mark.” You show him and Mr Selvig looks at it fascinated.  
“it’s like the Bifrost, only with less detail. Makes sense, it’s a smaller area…” He says and you can tell his mind is working out the puzzle as he talks, like Mr Stark does. He taps the metal. “What’s this?”  
“It focusses the magic, I think. I have a deal with him, a magical contract. It’s pretty one-sided, but…” You shrug. “You should be okay.”  
“So He sent you into to talk with me?”  
“Yeah. I don’t think he wants to hurt you. I mean he could have come in here and dragged you out by the hair. Or got the Captain to do it. They’re both really strong.” You wince at the recent memory and your side twinges. “But he chose me instead.”  
“Well, we can’t stay in this room all day.” Mr Selvig straightens and takes a deep breath. “Let’s go and see if the God of Lies keeps his word.”

“Erik.” The God-King almost purrs. “What a pleasant surprise.” He presses the man against the wall and strokes his shoulder possessively.  
“Loki.” Mr Selvig says, blinking in fear. “I was hoping you wouldn’t find me.”  
“We found your dinner.” The Captain says. Mr Selvig looks at him and shivers.  
“Are you going to do that to me?” He asks and the God-King puts his head on one side and smiles broadly.  
“I don’t think I need to, do you? You’ll behave, won’t you?” He caresses the man’s cheek with the back of his hand and Mr Selvig closes his eyes. “You were after all, my favourite pet.”  
“Erik Selvig?” Mr Stark asks. “The physicist who worked with Jane Foster on the Einstein-Rosen bridges? The man SHIELD brought in for the Tesseract research?”  
“The same. You’re Tony Stark, Iron Man.”  
“You got it. Thor told me all about you.” Mr Stark nods. “He’ll be able to help me with my work.”  
“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” The God-King agrees. “Erik is the best in his field.” He leans in to Mr Selvig’s ear. “Just remember Erik, I’m sparing you’re the sceptre, but I can still see into your mind if I wish.”  
“I understand, Loki. Thank you for your mercy.” Mr Selvig says and the God-King preens.  
“Have you got everything you need, Tony?”  
“Not yet. I was about to bring it all together and then I was distracted.” Mr Stark frowns in disapproval.  
“Go and get it then. I promise I won’t throw the child out of the building in your absence.” 

You make your way back up to the penthouse and Mr Stark disappears into the back rooms to finish what he’s doing. Mr Selvig offers to show the Captain his final stash of scotch and the God-King takes you over to the windows to look outside. The adrenaline is beginning to wear off and you’re feeling sick and tired and the pain is creeping back.  
“Give me your wrist.” The God-King says and you offer him your injury. He prods at it and you wince and hiss at his unkind touch. “It’s just sprained. Here, let me.” He gestures and says a few words and your wrist is filed with heat. When it dissipates the pain has gone away. “Where else does it hurt?” You lift your arm to show him your side and he crouches down to see.  
“Nothing broken. The Captain was relatively gentle with you.”  
“He threw me across the room.” You protest.  
“He could have put you through a window, or broken half the bones in your body…”  
“He also could have just pushed me to one side.” You complain.  
“You shouldn’t goad him. He has very little patience left.” The God-King gestures again and you sob involuntarily as the warmth fills half your torso.

“Did you do that?” You ask. “Did you take his patience? He moves just like you.”  
“I am the dominant partner, yes. And he will take on some of my mannerisms because of it. But the man he is… That was already there, waiting for the sceptre to free it.” The God-King gestures again and the heat intensifies. You gasp and grip his shoulder to steady yourself. “He was a moral man, a controlled man. He had a lot of rage inside that he denied and allowed to build.”  
“And now it’s all coming out?”  
“He lost everything when he froze in the ice. The woman he loved, all his friends and his purpose in life. He’s trying to adjust, but the future is very different and he did not live through the changes.”  
“He still didn’t have to throw me across the room.” You mutter and the God-King chuckles.  
“Be good tomorrow, or he will do worse. I have given him permission to do whatever he likes, so long as you survive it.”  
“Why are you giving me to him? What did I do wrong?”  
“Nothing. You’re his reward for good service. I asked what he wanted and he said he wanted to put you through your paces. To get to know you a little better.” The God-King’s eyes flicker to yours. “He doesn’t trust you.”  
“But you do, right?” You ask and the God-King doesn’t answer. “Right?”  
The God-King sighs and says a few words of magic and the heat and the pain eases from your body.

“Child, I have taught you many things while you have been in my service and you have learned quickly and well. But the primary lesson was betrayal.” He smiles apologetically. “I have to be sure.”  
“Then read my mind…”  
“No. I would have to search for a very long time if you tried to hide it from me. If you hadn’t told Tony about your little parlour trick, I might never have known. And I stumbled upon your door by accident. It’s easier for me this way. I know how violence terrifies you, he’s in a better position to get at the truth.” 

“I hate you.” The words are out before you can stop them. The God-King smiles.  
“It’s only natural.” He pinches your cheek. “I did almost drop you off a building.” He splays his hands across your temples and the adrenaline fatigue is gone. “And I’m about to ship you off to be tortured.”  
“Majesty…”  
“You know you won’t change my mind.”  
“I know, and I didn’t mean it.” You sigh and look down at your feet. “I don’t hate you, well sometimes, for a moment, but not all the time.”  
“Why not?” The God-King asks and you look at him and frown.  
“I miss my old life so much it hurts, but I know that I can’t go back to it. You’ve shown me things. Awful things, mostly, but interesting as well. You’ve shown me how bad the world can get and I don’t think I could ever go back to being the kid I was. Worrying about rubbish exams and playing computer games. And I think I prefer the person I am now to who I was before…”  
“You prefer to have lost your innocence?” The God-King sounds surprised.  
“Screw that. I was never innocent, but I just didn’t get it. I knew the theory, but I never realised how much difficult the practical would be.” You shift uncomfortably. “And I don’t feel like a freak anymore. Compare to you and Captain America and Mr Stark, the things that singled me out were pretty tame. The kids at school used to bully me, I used to think they were mean and cruel, but…” You sigh.  
The God-King nods in understanding.

“Before I became king I thought the same as you do. I thought my father and my brother were terrible bullies. I would try to defend my corner, but I learned to fall silent quickly when either of them were angry. I was quiet, a listening shadow in the corner, keeping my own council and trying to find a way to earn their approval.” He looks down at the ground. “I still think they’re bullies, though my brother is trying to change, but they are not the worst out there. I realise I don’t hate my father, though I thought I did. I didn’t know what real hate was until I met Thanos.”  
“Thanos?” You ask and the God-King blinks and comes back to the present.  
“It doesn’t matter.” He says and he strokes your hair.  
“You do like me, don’t you?” You say and the God-King smiles.  
“I like you.” He admits. “But if it serves my purposes I will kill you.”  
“I know.” You nod and shuffle your feet. “But at least you’re polite enough to move me out of the way, rather than throwing me across the room.”  
The God-King laughs and gives you a brief hug. He wraps his hand around you hair and kisses you on the forehead.  
“Stay strong, little one. You might live through this yet.”  
“Hey kids and possible adults.” Mr Stark calls out as he walks into the room pulling a small wheeled trailer behind him. “I’ve got everything I need, so let’s blow this joint and get back to work.” He sees Mr Selvig and the Captain drinking. “And let’s take the booze as well, I could do with a little celebration.”  
The God-King sighs and gives you another kiss before standing and leading you forward.  
“Very well.” He says. The sceptre appears in his hand and Mr Selvig goes pale. “Let’s see if the lift holds together on our way down.”

*

The elevator does hold and Mr Selvig is fascinated by the way the sceptre keeps the Tesseract at bay.  
“I was right. It should have worked.” He enthuses as the sparks fly everywhere. “But I don’t understand why it didn’t.”  
“Because you never had the sceptre.” The God-King tells him through clenched teeth as he concentrates on the task at hand. “Do you really think I would have left it behind? It was an illusion to throw Thor off the scent.”  
“I hoped.” Mr Selvig admits. “In the heat of battle...”  
“There was a very high chance that if you had tried to put the sceptre through the Tesseract’s shield without magical knowledge, you would have been vaporised immediately.” The God-King sounds annoyed.  
“There was no other way. It was the only loophole I made.”  
“Then you failed in you task.” You pass through the barrier and the God-King relaxes. “Really Erik, if your plan revolves around putting an object of extremely dangerous and uncontrolled power into another object of extremely dangerous and uncontrolled power, you need to rethink your strategy.” He shrugs, flexes his hand and the sceptre disappears.  
“Isn’t that what you just did?” Mr Stark points out and the God-King looks at him sardonically.  
“I have centuries of knowledge and I wasn’t given the sceptre until I understood exactly how it functioned. For me, I am wielding controlled and contained power, not just poking a battery with a cattle prod.”  
Mr Stark nods thoughtfully.  
“That’s a fair argument.” He agrees. 

*

The garage is large and spacious. There are cars lined all along one side of the room and you look at them in envy. Your parents had never owned a car, they couldn’t afford one, though both of them could drive. You remember the stuffy holiday coaches and the long, long train rides and you try to imagine what it must be like just to open the roof of your convertible and go where you please with the wind in your hair…  
“Close your mouth, kid.” Mr Stark says and you look at him with jealousy. “You want one? You can have one. Maybe Loki’ll let me teach you how to drive.”  
“Don’t get your hopes up.” The God-King says drily.  
“So, where am I going?” The Captain asks and Mr Stark gestures in the general direction.  
“Last door on your right. Don’t drop anything, okay?”  
“Sure, Tony.” The Captain flips him the bird and walks off in the right direction.

“Ooooo, that sceptre of yours has sure made him testy.” Mr Stark says and the God-King shrugs.  
“I don’t think he ever liked you, Tony. He just put up with you because he had to. He used to be quite the team player.”  
“I know, stiff and proper – like a good little soldier. If he didn’t hit me in the face so much, we might be pals now.” Mr Stark goes down the line of cars and stop at a particularly nice one. “Here you go, Great and Powerful, just like I said.”  
“It’s very pretty.” The God-King agrees. “But I can’t drive, Tony.”  
“Hey, maybe I can teach you at the same time I show the kid the ropes.”  
“It only holds two people.”  
“Well, I was thinking of giving you a pleasure cruise, to continue last night for a bit.” Mr Stark winks at him. “I’ve got a van for the equipment that the Captain can drive. The kid and Erik will fit in the front with him, there’s three seats.”  
The God-King circles the green Lotus, his fingers trailing along the polished surface.  
“Very well. Entertain me, Tony.”  
“That’s the spirit, Schumacher. We’ll have a great time now that the roads are clear.”  
“If this is a trick…”  
“Please. We can’t get off the island and if I crash it I’m far more likely to die than you are. Even a full tilt smash against a wall at a hundred wouldn’t do much to you. I think your Asgardian make up would get you out with just a few cuts and bruises.” Mr Stark strokes the car. “And anyway, it would be a tragic way for such a piece of beautiful machinery to die. This is proper and kingly gift, Loki, I ain’t kidding.”  
“No.” The God-King agrees. “I don’t think you are.”

The Captain comes back and dumps the screens in the back of the van, along with the trailer of parts. He ties them down firmly under Mr Stark’s supervision. Mr Stark also lets him have a motorcycle at the end of the line of cars which the Captain had been eyeing up.  
“Take what you want.” Mr Stark shrugs. “It’s not like it matters anymore.”  
“Thank you, Tony.” The Captain says in a voice that tells you he was going to take the bike anyway. It goes in the van along with everything else. Once he's done Mr Stark throws something at him.  
"What's this?" The Captain asks.  
"It's my Star Wars DVD box set." Mr Stark says. "I thought you'd like it."  
The Captain looks bemused, but throws it onto the dashboard.  
“JARVIS, once we’ve gone I want you to go back into lock down, okay. No one in or out.”  
“Absolutely, sir. It was good to see you again.” Mr Stark puts his hand on the wall.  
“I’ll miss you too.” He says sadly and then walks to the car. “Come on, Chewie, let’s get this show on the road.”  
The God-King grimaces at the nickname, but climbs inside. The Captain chaperones both you and Mr Selvig into the van and kicks the ignition.  
As you drive past, Mr Stark and the God-King are leaning over the seats and kissing deeply.  
“Fucking fags.” The Captain mutters darkly and you look at him in surprise.  
“What?” He snarls and you raise your hands in acceptance.  
“Nothing.” You say quickly and he nods in satisfaction.  
“Good.”  
You drive back to the Empire State in absolute silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finally tagged this Frost/Iron, becasue Loki and Tony are going to have a relationship, even if it isn't going to be Explicit.
> 
> And Slevig doesn't know that Darcy and Jane are in Norway, he left before that, so the New Mexico thing would be correct in this timeline. I didn't forget or anything. 
> 
> The next chapter is going to be *another* hard one for the kid, so it might take me a while to write. I'm getting proper emotional fatigue now, but I have to give Evil Loki and Evil Steve justice. Though the kid did get Loki to admit he liked them, so yay for small victories. 
> 
> Please feel free to comment to help me through this darkest time of dark moments. It will *eventually* get better, I promise. (I hope so). 
> 
> Anyway, off to watch some more of Season Three House of Cards. I swear, it feels chipper compared to this. :)
> 
> Edit: Just found out that Patrick Macnee (Steed on my profile picture) has just died. Flags at half mast all round... He will be missed.


	18. No One Puts Tony In The Corner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No!” The bedroom door slams open and Mr Stark strides out wearing nothing but boxers and a t-shirt. “Fuck you, Loki, fuck this. I give you the time of your life all of yesterday and you repay it by torturing me half the night and waking me at the crack of dawn to demand kinky sex? No. Not before breakfast. And not even then.”  
> “Come back here, Stark.” The God-King’s voice is furious.   
> “I’ve got work to do, you fucking alien freak. I’ve got screens to set up and programs to compile and information to database. I am not your god-damned sex slave. Don’t you have a whole floor of harem to go to?”  
> “None of them are as charming as you.” The God-King’s voice is dripping with venom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so there is a lot of swearing in this chapter. But it's pretty much all justified. (Use the summary as a warning.)
> 
> The kid gets told some nasty stuff in this chapter, but there is no traumatising (Though I'm making no promises in the next chapter) and Erik and Tony so have their corner. It's good to have friends. :)
> 
> Quick summary:   
> Loki once again proves why he's the god of mischief and lies.  
> Steve continues to be scary and dark.  
> Erik Selvig helps out.  
> Tony has had enough. 
> 
> I think that covers it, sorry if I've missed anything and enjoy.

*

The next few hours go far more quickly than you want them to. You want them to drag out, to give you time to process everything you learned in Stark Tower, to try and understand the Captain better – to make tomorrow easier. But you’re just too busy. Mr Stark brought so much stuff with him, you can’t believe how much he managed to fit in a single hand cart. And with him and the God-King elsewhere it comes down to you and Mr Selvig to try to put everything together in Mr Stark’s cell.

“That’s the last of it.” The Captain says, putting down the final screen. It’s taken him three separate trips to get them up here in the elevator. They just don’t fit neatly with all the wiring and the way they curve makes them extremely delicate pieces of machinery. Works of art really, with the gentle curve of the thin metal scaffold and the soft weird mesh that makes the hologram work. You simultaneously want to touch and explore them while keeping half a room away, they are just so tactile but also so fragile. You’re worried that you’d break them while the other half of your brain just wants to know how they work, inside and out.   
“Put it over there.” Mr Selvig points while wrapping some more wire around his hand for cutting. You’ve been trusted to twist the wires together after Mr Selvig sorts out where they should go. Your small hands are a real asset and you can get behind the workings without any problems. The Captain puts the screen down carefully where Mr Selvig has indicated and then looks at you. You try to ignore him completely, pretending to be engrossed in your work. He walks across, standing over you from about a foot away and you glance up before you can stop yourself. 

“Yes, Captain?” You ask, proud of how steady your voice is.  
“I think we should get an early start tomorrow.” He says and you shrug nonchalantly.  
“What time were you thinking?” You ask, turning back to the wires.   
“About six sound good to you?” He asks.  
“That’s fine, Captain, I should be up by then.” You agree. “But you’ll have to come and collect me. I don’t think the God-King and Mr Stark will be awake at that time in the morning and the God-King doesn’t like me wandering around by myself.”  
“That’s doable.” The Captain smiles. “You’re an arrogant little shit, aren’t you?”  
“I’m saving my voice for tomorrow.” You tell him. You lean forward to grab another wire, placing your hand on the floor. The Captain moves forward and steps on it lightly so you can feel the hard tread against the back of your knuckles. You freeze and look up at him.  
“I meant no offence, sir.” You say.  
“The hell you didn’t.”   
“The God-King says I’m spending too much time with Mr Stark.” You say, your voice full of apology. You lower your shoulders in submission. “I… I didn’t mean to offend. Please don’t hurt me, sir.”  
“It’s just something else to take out of your hide tomorrow.” The Captain says and you lower your eyes and nod.   
“I’m sorry, sir.”   
“Six o’clock. Tomorrow. Be ready.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
He takes his foot off your hand and walks angrily from the room. You grab your knuckles and massage them as you watch him leave. You try to keep the fear in check, but you can feel the tears welling just behind your eyes. You don’t want to think about tomorrow.

“The sceptre does terrible things to the mind.” Mr Selvig says and you realise he’s watched the whole conversation. “While you’re under its spell, you think your eyes have been opened.”   
“And when you come back?”   
“You know you were wrong.” Mr Selvig cuts the wire in his hand to the right length and sighs. “You have no idea what it’s like to have a God in your head.”   
You smile at that.   
“I think I do, Mr Selvig.” You tell him. “I think I know better than most.”   
He frowns at you.  
“How do you think he took my name?” You turn back to your work.   
“By some form of magic?” Mr Selvig asks and you shake your head.   
“He didn’t just make me forget by using some spell. He went into my mind and he took it by force. I’ll never remember it ever again, because it isn’t there anymore.” You twist a wire too vehemently and you slice your finger. “Fuck.” You suck at it and glare at the work in front of you. “Fuck it all.” You stand and kick the bunch of wires as hard as you can. 

You turn at the hand on your shoulder and look up at Mr Selvig. You expect pity, like Mr Stark would give you, but instead his face is grave and serious. It makes you bite back the tart rejoinder on your lips and instead you look away again.   
“Why did you make a bargain with him?” He asks and you shrug.  
“I was trying to save lives, trying to make a difference.” You look at your feet. “I thought I was dead, that he was toying with me, so I wanted to make my last few hours count.”   
“How long ago?”  
“I don’t know? About a month, maybe? The day after the battle started.” You look at the blood running from the cut and you suck at it again. “I don’t get out much.”

“That’s a short time to grow up in.” He says. “And you have grown in that time. I can tell.”   
“Yeah?” You snap. “Don’t pity me, Mr Selvig. I’m a kid, I know I am. I’m fucking fourteen and I should be in a Pen somewhere, struggling for the day to day, taking responsibility one day at a time, growing up steadily. But instead I know what it’s like to be mind-raped. I know what it’s like to be totally, hopelessly out-matched. I know what it’s like to be almost dropped off the top of fucking Stark Tower.” Your shoulders are shaking, but you don’t know if it’s from rage or sorrow. “I don’t need your fucking pity.”  
“You don’t have my pity.” Mr Selvig says and you glare up at him. “You have my respect.”  
And the way he says it, so straight, so sincere, it just breaks a dam inside and you start crying. 

You expect him to hug you or hold you or press your head against his chest, but instead he just stands there, holding your shoulder while you let the tears run down your face and drip onto your tunic. You cry openly for a long while, it feels liberating, just being allowed to vent your frustration without anyone trying to comfort you. Without the fear that you’re hurting someone else, or showing them your weakness. Eventually you turn to him and press your head against his side and only then does he put his arm around your shoulders and hold you, a gentle show of solidarity.

“You’re stronger than you know.” He tells you. “You were born a fighter.”   
“How…? How do you know that?” You ask him between sobs and he laughs.   
“I’ve been around. I’ve seen a thing or two in my travels. There are those who bend and those who break and those who’ll spit in your eye rather than submit.” He squeezes you reassuringly. “You learn how to tell the difference.”   
“Which one am I?”   
“You’re one of the first breed, the strongest breed. You know when to give ground or when to hold your own. The last two can only get so far in life, but those who know how to compromise… They always do well.”   
“Thank you, Mr Selvig.” You look up and him and smile.  
“Erik.”  
“Thank you, Erik.” You pull the handkerchief the God-King gave you out of your pocket and start to wipe the tears away.

“Go. Get yourself cleaned up. Go and get changed. I’ve got it from here.”   
“I don’t have any clean clothes…” You say and he goes to the trailer and pulls out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts that might fit you.   
“Mr Stark thought you might want these.” He says and you look at them longingly.   
“The God-King would have my head…” You say sadly.   
“Then tell him they’re on loan from me.” Mr Selvig smiles and you laugh.  
“They’d never fit you.” You say and he shrugs.   
“Maybe I like to wear extra tight things from time to time.” He says and you look at him sardonically as he puts them against his larger frame as if modelling them. “What, you don’t think they’re my style?” He asks, pretend hurt on his face.   
You walk over and snatch them from his hands.   
“You’re dumb, Mr Selvig.” You tell him and he grins.  
“Go and get changed. I’ve got this.”  
You leave and take the steps down two at a time. You feel so light and free, like a heavy burden has been lifted. Mr Selvig’s an idiot, but he’s alright. You’re going to get on just fine.   
A quick shower and a change of clothes later and you’re feeling weary, you didn’t get much rest last night at all. You curl up by your door and you fall deeply asleep.

*

You’re woken hours later by a boot in the ribs. Not a hard kick, but a heavy prod that pushes you onto your back. You look up into the disapproving face of the God-King.  
“What are you wearing?” He asks, his voice that emotionless tone which says your excuse had better be good. Luckily you came prepared.  
“My other clothes were soiled, Majesty. I thought you would prefer me to be clean when you returned.”  
“Where did you get them?” He looks down at the bright red shorts that come to your knees and the white top emblazoned with the Stark Industries logo. The clothes are designed to be tight, but for someone a few sizes bigger than you are now, and they’re pretty loose on you.  
“They were in Mr Stark’s trailer.” You smile timidly up at him. “They’re on loan, I’m not keeping them, I promise.”  
“Hey, you found the left-overs from my last wet t-shirt contest.” Mr Stark walks over and grins. “I thought they’d fit you, Short Stuff.” He’s wearing a charcoal suit with Armani glasses and very polished shoes. The God King is in a lighter grey suit with a green scarf and walking cane. The God-King looks at him in annoyance.

“This is unacceptable, Stark. You can’t keep countering my instructions.”  
“What instructions? They’re on loan, the kid said so. I mean, you made them piss themselves with that Stark Tower stunt. What were they supposed to do, sleep in soiled trousers?”  
“And you showered without my permission.” The God-King turns back at you, his anger growing.   
“I used the cheap soap…” You sit up and pull your legs into your chest. “I just wanted to be presentable…” Your voice grows small under the God-King’s glare and trails off.   
“Take them off. Now.”   
You stand and start to strip. Mr Stark looks away but the God-King watches you with hard eyes. He takes the clothes the second they’re off your body and mutters a spell. The cloth bursts into green flame in his hands.  
“Hey!” Mr Stark says. “They were mine.”  
“Nothing is yours, Tony. You belong to me – both of you belong to me.” He looks down at you where you stand trying to hide your nudity, his contempt is obvious. “Do you want to start earning your illusionary clothes as well?” He asks.   
You don’t say anything and look down at your feet. 

“Come on, Loki. They’re just a kid. Go easy on them.” Mr Stark says and the God-King turns on him violently. Mr Stark is ready for it and takes the blow without comment. He waits a moment, letting the pink spread across his cheek and then he looks at the God-King again.  
“Come on.” He says calmly. “Come on.” He straightens his glasses. “We both belong to you, I know it, the kid knows it. We just want to make you happy. I thought you’d like to see the kid clean and dressed. I’m sorry, okay? This is all on me.”  
The God-King’s jaw works as he processes his anger. You stand there shivering and wishing you’d never done anything so stupid. Then the God-King gestures and you’re dressed again.   
“There’s a spare set in your trunk, so this doesn’t happen again.” He said coldly.  
“Thank you, Majesty.”   
“What time is the Captain picking you up tomorrow?”   
“Six in the morning.”   
Mr Stark whistles.   
“I didn’t even know that hour existed.”   
“Shut up, Stark.” The God-King snaps. He looks back down at you. “You will wake me before you leave.”   
“Yes, Majesty.” 

“Stark, get in the bedroom.” The God-King orders him.  
“Wait. Is the kid going to sleep by the door?”  
“Of course.”   
“Can they not? I mean I might get performance issues, knowing they might be listening in…”   
The God-King looks down at you.  
“Fine. Go sleep in the kitchen.” You nod and skip round him to get out of there.   
“The kitchen? Shit, the floor’s fucking tiled…”  
The God-King growls and then there’s a blanket at your feet.   
“Happy, Stark?” He asks. Mr Stark pretends to think about it.   
“It’ll do.” He agrees reluctantly.  
“Good. Now get in the bedroom.”   
Mr Stark winks over his glasses at you before heading in.

It’s dark in the kitchen. Mr Stark and the God-King have been gone all day. You look out the window, remembering how the city used to light up at night all neon and exciting. Now you can see the campfires spread out among the ruins, concentrated around the Pen areas. The Chitauri ship glows a dark, menacing blue in the night sky. You go to the table and pull out the chairs so you can bed down underneath. You don’t feel safe sleeping out in the open tonight. 

At some point in the night you’re woken by Mr Stark’s screams. They’re so loud they could be in the same room as you. You shiver, pull the blanket tighter around yourself and try not to think about it.

*

“Majesty?” You knock at the bedroom door but there’s no answer. You knock a couple more times and then decide to go in. You were woken by the sunrise and it’s around five in the morning, but you haven’t eaten yet. You don’t want the God-King to have any other reasons to be angry with you.

They’re both sleeping on the bed. The God-King is sat up against the headboard, his head in his chest as he breathes deeply. Mr Stark is curled around him, child-like, with his head in the God-King’s lap. Mr Stark looks unharmed. The blankets are tangled around him and you can see most of his back and one leg and there’s no bruising. But then the God-King doesn’t actually need to physically hurt you to make you scream. And he needs Mr Stark whole to finish his work. 

You tiptoe around the bed, not certain how to wake him. You touch him gently on the upper arm.  
“Majesty?”   
His hand comes up and takes your wrist in a loose grip. His eyes open and he looks at you sleepily.   
“Good morning, Majesty.” You say and he smiles.  
“Good morning, child.” He looks down at Mr Stark with a fond, possessive expression on his face. He strokes the man’s hair and coaxes him to turn over onto the pillows. Mr Stark grumbles, but doesn’t wake up and the God-King pulls the remains of the blanket over his own body.   
“Such a difficult pet.” He says, sighing. “But then he wouldn’t be half as interesting if there wasn’t some bite in him.” He gestures to his lap, smoothing the sheet with his hand. “Come. Sit.”

You look at him reluctantly, but do as you’re told. He pushes you to sit forward and starts to comb your hair with his fingers.   
“You’re such a little savage.” He chides you as he teases the strands out.   
“I’m sorry, Majesty.”  
“We need to have this chat, before you go too far down the deep end.” The God-King says. “You can’t keep taking your cues from Mr Stark, it will get you killed.” He finds a snarl in your hair and you tense, thinking he’s going to pull it, but he continues to gently undo the mess.   
“But you said I had to get him to trust me…”  
“And I told you to be clever. The way you’re acting now… You’re not being clever.”   
“I don’t understand…”   
“Very well. Understand this. Mr Stark is my most important asset at this moment in time. I need his brain and his technical expertise and I accept his counsel comes at the price of ongoing frustration. He is difficult to work with – but he is a genius. This is the price I have to pay when working with a genius. You are not a genius.”   
You bite your lip and keep silent. 

“You are useful however, if not indispensable. I am reluctant to bring about your end, but if you push me I will not hesitate. You do not get the level of patience I give Mr Stark because you are not worth that price. I can replace you.”   
You look at him, hurt and frightened and he sighs.   
“I admit that your replacement will not have as many assets as you bring to the table. You are special, unique and I can do a lot more with you than most other children your age. But understand this: if you give me any more cheek, if you willingly and knowingly break the rules again, I will make you pay. And pay. And pay. And then I may decide to get rid of you.”   
His eyes are hard and unyielding and you tremble under his gaze.   
“I’ll do better, Majesty. I promise.”   
“I know you will.” He says and allows a tight smile. “Because you’re clever.”  
He gestures and there’s a brush in his hand which he gives to you.   
“Go and clean yourself up. Make yourself presentable for the Captain and have a light breakfast. You probably won’t keep it down for very long.”  
“Thank you, Majesty. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” And then, before you lose your nerve, you lean back and give him a quick, tight hug. He tenses in surprise and gives a small laugh as he relaxes again. He strokes you hair and kisses your head.  
“Such a foolish, child.” He says fondly. “Go on now, before I punish you for your forwardness.” But from his tone you know he doesn’t mean it. 

As you go out the door, the God-King is sliding down into bed and curling around Mr Stark. The man murmurs as the God-King’s arms tighten around him and wakes up with a mild curse as the God-King’s teeth press hard into his earlobe.   
“Shit, Loki. You’re fucking incorrigible, you know that?” He grumbles. “Can’t a guy get any sleep?”  
“I’m bored, Stark. Entertain me.” The God-King hisses in his ear and you quickly decide to make your exit as the God-King pushes Mr Stark onto his front.

*

You manage a light breakfast of toast and jam and you spend a long while in front of the mirror brushing your hair until it drifts from the static. You don’t like the way your hair’s growing out. You’ve always kept it short, but now it’s starting to tuft from a month without any care or attention. You look a bit mad, if you’re honest, like some sort of crazy vampire from the black and white movies, with the owl-ear tufts on either side of your head. All you need is a widow’s peak and it would be perfect. You hope it grows out soon, or you’ll have to find the courage to ask the God-King for a haircut.

From the sharp rap on the door, you know the Captain has arrived and you feel a frisson of fear. You glance at the clock and see it’s exactly six o’clock, not too late or too early and you’re pretty impressed by his commitment.  
“Good morning, Captain.” You say brightly in greeting as you answer the door. “The servants haven’t brought breakfast yet, but I can make you toast and coffee if you need it.”   
“That won’t be necessary.” The Captain says as he walks in. He hears the noises from the bedroom and he sighs in disapproval. “Are they…?”  
“For half an hour now.” You smile at him. “Maybe something to drink? We still have a little of the scotch from yesterday.”  
“A bit early in the morning, don’t you think?” The Captain asks and you shrug.   
“Just giving you the full list, Captain. I don’t want to seem lacking as a host.”   
He chuckles at that, a deep and threatening noise.   
“You’re trying to butter me up. I can’t blame you, but it won’t help. I’ve got a list of my own.”  
“Why did you ask for me, Captain?” You say, backing away a few steps. “The God-King says you specifically asked for me.” The Captain closes the distance and you find yourself backing away again. He looks down at you with his head on one side and an amused smile on his face.  
“A sweet little package like you? Pet to the General and aide to Tony Stark? Who wouldn’t want to get to know you better?” He points to the space at his feet. “Now come here.” 

You swallow and move from foot to foot for a moment as you gather up the courage. When you get within arm’s reach he grabs you hard around the cheeks with his right hand.  
“Next time I give you an order, you don’t hesitate.” He tells you. He drags you forward in this uncomfortable grip and pulls you to the table in the centre of the room. He releases his hold to step behind you and his hand flattens between your shoulder blades as he forces you to bend over.   
“Hands behind your back.” He orders and again you hesitate, too frightened to comply immediately. His fingers runs down your spine, stopping under the ribs and gripping your side. His thumb finds your kidney and presses in hard. You give a strangled cry. You don’t want to make too much noise and ruin the God-King’s games. Even in the midst of what’s happening now, you constantly think about keeping him happy.   
“Let’s try again. Hands behind your back.” You do as you’re told. He takes your wrists one at a time and there’s the sound of handcuffs. You test them. They’re tight and have only a few links in them. There’s no leeway to move at all. He pulls you upright and pushes you towards the door.   
“Start walking.” He orders. You nod and head in the right direction. 

“No!” The bedroom door slams open and Mr Stark strides out wearing nothing but boxers and a t-shirt. “Fuck you, Loki, fuck this. I give you the time of your life all of yesterday and you repay it by torturing me half the night and waking me at the crack of dawn to demand kinky sex? No. Not before breakfast. And not even then.”  
“Come back here, Stark.” The God-King’s voice is furious.   
“I’ve got work to do, you fucking alien freak. I’ve got screens to set up and programs to compile and information to database. I am not your god-damned sex slave. Don’t you have a whole floor of harem to go to?”  
“None of them are as charming as you.” The God-King’s voice is dripping with venom. He appears at the door in his leather trousers, his hair is dishevelled and his expression thunderous. You move behind the Captain instinctively, desperate to put someone between yourself and the rage of the God-King. Mr Stark stops dead, sees the handcuffs and his eyes narrow.

“What the fuck is this?” He asks, his voice is so quiet you know he’s about to explode.   
“It’s none of your business, Tony.” The Captain tells him grinning. “You weren’t even supposed to be awake yet.”  
“It’s alright, Mr Stark.” You say quietly, desperate to head off whatever was about to happen. “I’m going willingly.”  
“And now I know this situation is as nasty as it seems.” Mr Stark turns on the Captain in fury. “What are you going to do to the kid? What the fuck could it have possibly done to be in handcuffs?”   
The Captain laughs silently, gives a large shit-eating grin and Mr Stark punches him hard in the face. The Captain’s head snaps around but his body doesn’t move. His return blow knocks Mr Stark back ten feet and he falls hard onto the ground.   
“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” You’re screaming and Mr Stark’s trying to get up and the Captain’s closing the distance.   
“Stop!” The God-King commands and the Captain’s face darkens in uncontained fury.  
“Let me fucking kill him, General. When I’m done he’ll come crawling back to your bed.”   
“No.” The God-King walks out into the room, he walks past you and you drop to your knees, lowering your head to him. He ruffles you hair absently as he goes by. He stops next to the Captain and Mr Stark pauses in the act of getting to his feet. He moves into a combat crouch instead and watches them both carefully. He’s outnumbered and out-classed and he knows it. But he’s ready to go down fighting.

“Please, Tony. Don’t be difficult.” The God-King says and Mr Stark shakes his head.   
“You’re a piece of work, you know that? A twisted, fucked up little prince who threw all his toys out of the pram when he didn’t get the shiny throne he wanted.”  
The God-King goes quiet for a minute and you can feel the anger in him.  
“Go on.” He says, his voice tight.   
“You think this is new to me? You think I haven’t been through this shit before? You think Afghanistan was all fun and games inventing an escape in a cave? Some sort of stupid adventure comic book? I’m a rich, pretty, white boy and sometimes I had to entertain the troops. You guys are all alike, you try to make me beg and crawl ‘cause you’re all so damn well jealous.” He slaps his chest for emphasis. “I mean, I’m American royalty in my own right. I can go anywhere, do anything I please. My money talks and people listen. And you want that. You want to own that. But let me tell you sweetheart – you can’t have it.”   
The God-King stalks forward, bends gracefully and takes Mr Stark’s chin in his hand. He draws the man to his feet and backs him up until Mr Stark is half-sitting on the edge of the table. He looks him up and down with contempt.   
“I could have you any way I wanted you.” He says and Mr Stark laughs in his face and pushes the hand away.   
“No you couldn’t, Princess. Sure you can have all this.” He gestures to his body. “But what you really want is up here.” He taps his temple. “All the beauty and all the brains, too. I’m the entire package. You play it right, I give you cars and treats you never knew you never dreamed of in your staid and proper little alien world. I know my way around, honey. I’ve been there, done that. I know how this game works, I know how this world works. I could get you things you can’t even imagine exist on this mudball. But if you force it you’ll never get what you want again.” 

The God-King purses his lips, reaches out and gestures towards you. You shiver and wait for the pain to start.  
“No.” Mr Stark says. “So help me if you torture that kid again I swear you’ll lose me forever. I will fucking lobotomise myself before I give you anything.”  
“I have Slevig.” The God-King smiles smugly.   
“Oh yeah and he’s exactly what you need.” Mr Stark’s voice is filled with sarcasm. “He’s bright, I’ll give him that, but he’s not as brilliant as me. He’s a comet and I’m a star. My intellect burns, baby and if he misses his mark, you’ll have to wait for him to come round again. Your plans will slow down, you’ll have to make contingences and, baby – I don’t think you have the time for that.”  
The God-King raises his hand and Mr Stark stares him down, filled with an arrogant defiance.  
“Go on.” He says quietly. “Fucking bring it.” 

The God-King draws himself up in angry defeat and lowers his hand. His expression is terrible, but Mr Stark doesn’t flinch away. The God-King looks at the Captain and something passes between them. So only you see the flicker of relief that crosses Mr Stark’s face. A moment of profound pain and weakness which stabs at your heart. You realise he hasn’t come to terms with Afghanistan, or any of this at all. It’s all just one big elaborate front and you’re impressed. By the time the God-King looks back it’s gone, replaced by his normal, cocky self-assurance. You squirrel the memory away deep in your head, where the God-King will never find it. You’re never going to give Mr Stark away. 

The God-King sighs and nods in agreement, then he looks over to you.  
“Child, touch the palm of your hand to the cuffs and repeat after me…”   
You quickly move your hands around so the gold metal touches the hard steel.  
“Metal of my metal.”  
“Metal of my metal.”  
“Blood of my blood.”  
“Blood of my blood.”  
“My soul sings to you.”  
“My soul sings to you.”   
“Release me.”  
“Release me.” And you feel the magic surging from inside you. Powerful and pure and perfect. The handcuffs fall away from your wrists.   
“A little loose on the translation.” The God-King says, grimacing. “But words are only a focus after all.”   
“The kids doing pretty well, huh?” Mr Stark asks and the God-King smiles.   
“The child strives to make me proud.”  
“Shit.” The Captain sighs. “Now I’m going to have to use the cord.”  
“You’ll do no such thing, Captain.” The God-King gestures to you. “Come, child. I believe me and Mr Stark need to have a conversation with you present.”  
You go to stand, but a heavy force keeps you on your knees. Instead your double stands and walks over, it’s body language frightened and timid. You want to shout, but your mouth won’t open. The Captain is in on it. He glances back to where you’re still kneeling and he smiles. 

“I’m sorry for being such a problem, Mr Stark.” Your double says.  
“Don’t worry about it, kid.” Mr Stark nods. He goes to ruffle your hair but the double shies away.  
“Can you… Um, can you not? I just…” It trails off nervously and Mr Stark nods.   
“Sure kid, you’ve been through enough. I wouldn’t want to be touched either.”   
The God-King lets him go and the double leads Mr Stark towards the kitchen with the God-King following. Mr Stark disappears into the other room and the God-King pauses.   
“Captain?” He says very quietly.   
“General?” The Captain still has that awful grin on his face.   
“Don’t remove the collar and no sexual assault.”   
“Understood, General.”   
“But enjoy yourself.” The God-King looks at you and smiles. “And be on your best behaviour.”   
You nod in silence. “I want the child back by the mid-afternoon, at the latest.”  
“Don’t worry about it, General.” The Captain assures him. “I’m going to enjoy whipping its skinny ass into shape, but they won’t be able to take more than a few hours.”   
“Good.” The God-King nods and continues walking towards the kitchen.   
“Well it looks like that shithead of a billionaire isn’t getting everything he wants today, even after his crappy little speech.” The Captain laughs. “My day just gets better all the time.” 

He forces you to your feet and as you’re pushed through the door you glance back at the kitchen. You see Mr Stark sat next to your double, laughing and joking with it and you feel sick.   
“Pick up the pace, Short Stuff.” The Captain snaps sarcastically and you lower your head in compliance. Today really can’t get any worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can today get any worse? Can it? 
> 
> You'll have to wait for the update. ;) 
> 
> It's gonna take me (roughly) around four days to finish the next update. It's already half written, but made this chapter way too long and I wanted to give Tony his moment without overshadowing it by the next scene. And there's going to be a radical change of pace, which deserves a chapter all by itself. But tomorrow I move house, so I'll be incommunicado for a few days while I sort out boxes and furniture and stuff.
> 
> See you on the other side of the weekend.


	19. An Audience With The Captain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey.” His hand is hard around the back of your neck and you realise you’re hyperventilating. “Stop it you little idiot. Calm down, or I swear I’ll give you something to cry about.”  
> “Please don’t do this. Please don’t take me away from my home.” You beg him and he sighs.  
> “You’ll be back for the afternoon. I gave the General my word.”  
> “But we’re going outside, I’m not supposed to go outside. Please Captain, please don’t kill me…” You’re being pathetic, but you’re terrified of what’s going to happen. The Captain smiles at you in an encouraging way that just frightens you all the more.  
> “It’s just a little trip. It’ll be fun and educational, I promise. Don’t you want to see what your master has done to your precious city?” He sneers as he speaks and you fight the panic off as best you can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay for starters there is torture in this chapter and uncomfortabe restraining techniques.  
> The Captain is not a nice man, mmokay?
> 
> There are scenes of execution, a conversation about mass graves, mass murder and the practicalities of body disposal.
> 
> But don't be put off, this is only relevant to the first half of the chapter, if that. The kids day starts off terribly and then it gets - interesting. No spoilers beyond that, but this is not a torture porn chapter, everything happens for a reason. ;)

*

You expect the Captain to take you down a few floors, maybe the low seventies. You know he has half a floor to himself somewhere in the area and that sometimes the God-King lets him use the harem. You learn most of your information from those slaves when they don’t know you’re around. You also know they’re as scared of the Captain as you are as he is liberal with his punishments. So when he presses the button for the basement garage you look at him in surprise.  
“What? You thought you were going to my place? Nah, kid. I’m taking you on a little sight-seeing trip.”  
“Where are we going?” You ask and he hits you in the face. You steady yourself against the wall and don’t fall over, but shit, does he hit hard…  
“You talk without permission again and I’ll give you more than a bruise on your cheek.” He winks at you and you lower your head and nod. Do as he says, don’t resist and maybe he won’t beat you half to death. He puts his hands in his pockets and stares off into the distance as the lift descends while rocking on his heels in a chipper fashion. You massage your face and feel the bruise already forming there. This is not going to be a good day.

He shoves you out of the lift and calls directions as you walk in front of him. He still has his thumbs hooked over his pockets, like he’s going for a stroll, but he’s watching you carefully. You don’t go more than a few steps ahead of him and you follow his cues to the letter. Mr Stark’s motorcycle is ready and waiting a few parking spaces from the exit.  
“Get on. Right at the front of the seat.” He says and you hesitate.  
“I’m sorry, sir. Please don’t hit me, but wouldn’t it be better if I sit at the back of the seat?” You ask, shying from him.  
“Where you might fall off? Where I can’t watch you? No. You sit in front of me.” He goes to grab you but you pre-empt him and get on the seat at the most forward position. He smiles and nods, ruffling your hair in a rough and painful way in a parody of Mr Stark. He gets on behind you and the fear you feel at his overbearing presence is sudden and unexpected. You thought you could handle this. You were wrong. His shirt presses against your back and you give a small involuntary whimper. He’s going to kill you out in New York, somewhere the God-King or Mr Stark will never find you. He’s going to bury you in the rubble so deep it’ll take months for those people with the yellow badges to find you. You’re not supposed to the leave the building, the God-King would have told you if this was the case. He’s going against orders and you’re going to die…

“Hey.” His hand is hard around the back of your neck and you realise you’re hyperventilating. “Stop it you little idiot. Calm down, or I swear I’ll give you something to cry about.”  
“Please don’t do this. Please don’t take me away from my home.” You beg him and he sighs.  
“You’ll be back for the afternoon. I gave the General my word.”  
“But we’re going outside, I’m not supposed to go outside. Please Captain, please don’t kill me…” You’re being pathetic, but you’re terrified of what’s going to happen. The Captain smiles at you in an encouraging way that just frightens you all the more.  
“It’s just a little trip. It’ll be fun and educational, I promise. Don’t you want to see what your master has done to your precious city?” He sneers as he speaks and you fight the panic off as best you can.  
“You’re not…?” You ask, but can’t find the words to continue. The Captain takes over the sentence.  
“Oh, I’m gonna hurt you, sure. But kill you…? It’s not on my order sheet.” He lowers his mouth to your ear and speaks slowly. “So calm. The fuck. Down.”  
“Okay.” And you start to take big gulping breaths. You can’t lose it here, you need to keep sharp.  
“God help me, if you give yourself hiccups…” His starts the motor and you flinch at the loud noise.  
“Now you grab my belt like this…” He takes your smaller hands and turns them so that you grip the wide belt on his jeans. “And you hold on real tight.”  
The garage door must have a pressure plate because he just rides up to it and the metal shutter starts to lift.  
“We’re gonna have fun, kid. Just you and me.” And then the bike surges forward and you’re up the ramp and into New York.

*

Riding with the Captain is not a fun experience. He knows how scared you are and take full advantage. He also enjoys traveling well above the speed limit, sliding through corners and generally being a very inconsiderate driver. Sitting at the back, it wouldn’t have been quite so terrifying, but sitting up front, with your hands painfully twisted and only having his belt as a safety line… You almost wet yourself half a dozen times and every time you scream he laughs. You can feel the movement of his chest, even if you can’t hear him over the noise of the engine. You don’t see any workers during the journey, but you see plenty of discarded handcarts. They’ve heard the Captain coming and made themselves scarce. Only trouble rides any vehicle other than an ambulance and the roar of the bike is pretty distinctive. He doubles back on himself several times and you know that he’s just enjoying the wind in his hair and your extreme discomfort. Then he turns onto one of the main roads and waves the soldiers away at the barricades. As he drives forward, you realise you’re on Brooklyn Bridge.  
“Taking you home, kid. My old home. You’ll never recognise it now.” He says as he guns the engine and makes any reply impossible.

It doesn’t take long, at the speed he’s going, to reach his destination.  
“Prospect Park?” You ask as you climb off the bike. Your legs are all jelly from the vibrations and you lean on the seat and wait for the sensation to ease. The Captain takes a few steps forward onto the grass and inhales deeply.  
“I used to take the dames on walks down Magnolia Plaza and the Japanese Gardens, up in the Botanicals. It’s bigger now, expanded, over a hundred years old. Who’d have thought people would be interested in flowers for so long?” He shrugs dismissively. “Heritage and all that. The General kept the Botanicals because I asked and he kinds of likes them, but they ain’t open to the public anymore.” The Captain turns and looks over his shoulder at you. “You ready to take a walk, kid?”  
“Sure.” You push yourself upright and test your shaky legs. They’ll hold you, no problem.  
“And bring the bag tied under the seat.” You look at the big oiled bag strapped to the side of the bike and undo the clasps. It’s heavier than you expect and something inside clinks when you drop it.  
“Too heavy?” The Captain walks over and you back away to give him room. “I forget how weak people are.” He picks it up like it’s an awkward shaped cushion and slings it onto his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you where I want you.”  
“What about the bike?” You ask.  
“You think someone will steal it? Now?” The Captain raises an eyebrow and you smile sheepishly.  
“I guess not.” You agree.  
“Come on kid, front and centre.” He gestures and you take your place a few feet in front of him.

You quickly realise you’re moving south rather than towards the Botanic Gardens, down towards the lake. And the smell begins to hit you at intervals, it’s awful, like charred meat and you stop dead.  
“Is that… Is that smoke?” You ask at the black wall rising further away.  
“Yeah, kid, it is. Seems when someone told the General the nearby park was called Greenwood Cemetery he decided to take them literally.”  
“It’s where he buries the bodies?” You ask, but you already know the answer.  
“It’s where he has them burned. Over half a million people died during the battle of New York, disposal was an issue. Couldn’t be that far away, practically speaking, but you wouldn’t want it on your doorstep. So the General settled for Brooklyn.” He shoves you and you start walking again.  
“It must take a long time to burn half a million people…” You say thoughtfully.  
“Yeah, especially when you decided to execute half a million more during a month’s worth of reign. He’s a conquering King and he had no time for disputes or rebellions. Anyone who looks at him funny, anyone who sows even a small amount of discord ends up here, one way or the other.”  
You start the steep ascent up Lookout Hill and when you get to the top you almost vomit.  
“Yeah. The Practice Field ain’t what it used to be.” The Captain agrees. 

Any grass that used to grow on the Practice Field is long dead, choked by the blood which turns the ground a dark, bleak brown. There are fifty chopping blocks in neat rows of five in the centre and behind them, around the lake are gallows, more than you can count. Half of them are occupied. As you watch some people dressed in the black uniforms you’ve come to associate with HYDRA march twenty people out of a boat from Duck Island and towards the blocks.  
“Hey, just in time.” The Captain puts a hand on your shoulder. He makes the gesture look friendly, but the pressure of his fingers warns you not to run. “You get to see some justice in action.” The people have black bags over their heads and are part of a long chain gang. The soldiers unhook them in lengths of five and live them up along the rows. 

“You see, they get processed at the LeFrak center and then shipped to the island to sleep under the stars for a while. Make sure they can’t go no place and are good and starved by the time they’re ready for the final act. On bad days we lose them to the elements, but you can’t have everything and there’s always a few idiots who try to swim.” The Captain makes a motion like lining up a gun sight with his free hand. “It’s efficient.”  
“Sounds like some other people I heard about in school. Back in the nineteen forties.” You say and you’re horrified at yourself. You really should have self-censored that comment. But he just laughs.  
“This ain’t Nazism, kid. We ain’t killing them because of where they’re from or where they’re born. The General couldn’t give a shit what your religion is or your skin colour, so long as you accept his rule. This ain’t genocide or social cleansing…”  
“Just political killings?” You say. He punches you so hard you go down on one knee and your nose starts to bleed. You wipe at the blood with your thumb and round your shoulders in submission. You really just can’t keep your mouth shut, can you? Fuck, he’s going to kill you for that comment.  
He glares at you until you start trembling in fear and then he looks back across the Field.

“Why would you give a shit anyway? You’ll never end up down there. You’re his little pet, with his little collar and his little mark on your palm. If he kills you he’ll have you privately buried. Might even mark the spot so he can visit and shake his head in disapproval.”  
The captives are knelt over the blocks and on the call of the commander the axes come down. You don’t look away. You want to, you want to puke and cry and hide. But that’s what the Captain expects and you’ll be damned if you give him any satisfaction at all. He watches your reaction carefully, but if he’s disappointed he doesn’t show it.  
“Look at it this way kid. In twenty years’ time this ground will be prime soil for the Gardens.”

He walks over to two benches set out for people to sit at and enjoy the view. He drops the bag and takes hold of the wrought iron struts. With a single great heave he pulls them both from the ground, one in each hand. He turns them over so the metal struts and long bar underneath are showing and moves them so that they are parallel to each other.  
“Come here.” He orders and you do so. “Bend over.”  
“What?” You ask nervously.  
“Bend over the bar of this one.” He points to one of the benches and you do as he says. “Now stay still.” He opens the bag and pulls out two sets of manacles and a set of leather gloves. He throws the gloves to you. “Put them on.” You do as he says, they’re far too big on you and you can’t close your hands properly while wearing them.  
He walks to the other bench. “Now put your arms out, full stretch.” He gestures, his fingers splayed and you do it. He grabs each wrist in turn and manacles them to the bar of the second bench. He does it so that your arms are spread and pulled tightly against the iron. Each manacle is flush against the struts that go up to the back of the seats, so you can’t put your hands together. He clicks the metal circles tight against the leather on your wrists so you can’t slip out of the gloves. You can already feel the tightness, the lack of circulation. You wriggle uncomfortably and he glares at you.  
“Stay. Still.” He orders and you stop moving. He flicks the gloved palm of your hand. “Let’s see you pull your little party trick now, metal of my metal.” He grins. 

He goes and picks up two large rocks, set artistically for other guest seating, and carries them over. He lifts the bench you’re kneeling at so that the back is straight on the floor and you’re forced into a standing position with your ass up in the air. He wedges it in place at both sides with the rocks. With your arms taught and your waist pulled hard over the other bench the Captain goes back to the bag and take out a leather strap and a cane. He swishes it through the air experimentally and grins. He walks back and uses the strap to tie your waist to the bar of the first bench so you can’t move your upper body at all. Once he’s sure you’re immobile he pulls down your trousers and your underwear.  
“The God-King said…” You gasp out, terrified.  
“Relax, kid. I ain’t gonna rape you, or touch you inappropriately.” He swishes the cane again and brings it down hard on the meat of your left buttock. You shriek at the pain of it.  
“I hear they stopped corporal punishment at school a long time ago.” The Captain tuts in disapproval. “I thought I’d bring it back in fashion.”  
He brings it down on the other cheek and you howl as it leaves a mark.  
“I’m just gonna whip you pink, kid. I nice little warm up exercise. Shit when I was growing up, this was nothing at all.” He brings it down again and you bite your bottom lip so hard it starts bleeding.  
“The real cruel teachers would wait while between the strokes, let the pain set in, let the skin redden a bit and then…” He brings the cane down harder and you scream at the blow. This hurts so bad… You’d rather he was hitting you…  
“You’re just a little pussy, aren’t you?” He sneers. “Fucking soft as shit.”

“Captain?” The voice is tinny, like it’s from a speaker and the Captain turns.  
“Yeah?”  
“Anything we can help you with?”  
You twist your head and realise it’s the execution detail from below. They must have seen you both and come up out of curiosity.  
“No. Go back to your posts. This is a little speciality punishment. Order of the God-King.”  
“He ordered you to whip a small child on the ass?” The man asks and you can hear the amusement in the tone, even with the weird vocals.  
“What’s your name son?” The Captain demands, turning on him. “What’s your number?”  
“Sir, I…”  
“Answer the question, because I need to know what to put on the letter I send home to your mum after I’ve killed you.”  
“I’m sorry, sir… I didn’t realise…”  
“We’re real close to the execution block here son, and then a sort trip to the crem. I’m sure the truck hasn’t been loaded yet. There’s room for one more.”  
There’s the sound of a faceplate breaking and a man screaming for mercy which is suddenly cut off with a gurgling sound. But you don’t see it because you’re fixated on something else. There’s another team coming up the other side of the hill and as the rear team rush forward to defend their squad mate from the Captain, the other team moves up to you in a practised, military fashion. 

They gesture you to be quiet and you nod, too scared to say anything anyway. One of them grabs you hair and pulls your up head to get a good look at the collar while another pulls off the gloves to see your hands. They’re rough and leave friction burns along the lower wrist and along the edge of your palm. You bite your lip again and taste the blood in your mouth, but some instinct stops you from crying out.  
“It’s the child.” The one looking at your collar says.  
“You’re sure?”  
“A hundred percent. I was there in court at the massacre. This kid was kneeling by the throne.”  
“Then let’s do this.”  
The manacles are cut with heavy duty snips and the leather strap in untied. Another one pulls your clothes back on. You hiss from the pain and receive a blow on the back of the head for it. They pull your hands behind you, handcuff you roughly and force a gag in your mouth.  
“What the hell?” The Captains voice is furious.  
“Go! Go!” One of the soldiers throws you over their shoulder and starts to run while the others turn and open fire. There’s a van at the bottom of the hill. The soldier opens the back and throws you in. The doors slam and a few seconds later the engine kicks into gear. You scrabble to right yourself and find something to hold on to. The van is lined on either side with benches and you pull yourself up on one. You can’t sit down, you’re too sore, so you rest on your hip and struggle to pull on a seatbelt. It proves to be impossible with your arms cuffed behind your back, so you just grab it as tight as you can and hold on as the van pulls off across the grass. You don’t know what’s going on, or what’s about to happen to you, but is has to be better than taking a caning. And that had been the warm up! Shit, what had the Captain planned to do to you? You whimper behind the gag and chew it around so that it sits more comfortably in your mouth. You guess you’re being kidnapped, but in the haze of your confusion you can’t work out why. Who the fuck would want a kid like you? 

The men in the front start to talk rapidly and furiously and behind you is the sound of a motorbike. One of them leans out the window and starts shooting and you pull your legs up instinctively. You roll onto your ass and sob at the pain there. What’s going on? Why is this happening? There’s a thud on the roof and the sound of footsteps. The van swerves violently and the body hits the top hard and begins to slide backwards. They punch into the metal and leave a fist print. Shit, it’s the Captain. The print is at the end of the van, near the doors and as another barrage of firepower stutters through the air outside the Captain pulls one of the doors off its hinges. He’s hanging there, from the dent he’s made in the roof and he looks at you and your blood runs cold. There’s no way you’re going back with him.

“Shit! Shit! Help!” You scream and the men in the front turn and start to swear. One of them levels a gun at the Captain and as he moves to dodge out of the way, you put your feet against his chest and push as hard as you can. It’s enough to screw with the Captain’s momentum while he’s halfway through changing his grip on the doorframe. Your push is all that’s need to make him lose it completely. As he falls forward his cracks his head hard off the floor and for a moment the blue flickers and fades.  
“What…” He whispers looking at you in confusion and then the sceptre reasserts itself. “I’m gonna fucking kill you kid.” He snarls as he starts to pull himself inside.  
You lash out again as the bullets tear into the wooden floor towards him and he’s forced to pull backwards to dodge the stream. Again your timing is good and he loses his footing completely. He lashes out to catch you and pull you back out with him, put you still have a good grip on the seat belt and you push yourself up and away. He misses, falls onto one knee and takes a bullet in the shoulder. He twists, cursing, as the driver guns the engine and swerves at the same time making the vehicle kick as it surges forward. The Captain slips backwards and is thrown out of the van. He rolls to break his fall as he lands on the tarmac.  
He sits there on his hands and knees, gripping his shoulder and watching as the van pulls away. You sob under the gag at the thought of what he’ll do if he ever catches you again. 

The van pulls into a side street and there are four more waiting for you. Someone must have radioed ahead. They pull you out of the damaged vehicle and put you in another, there are ten men in the van, all sat on the benches. They take out a false bottom under the left-hand one and stuff you inside. It’s dark and it’s dusty and you can’t breathe properly with the gag in your mouth. The vans take off, one after the other and you realise they are decoys. They’ve been planning this for a while. The van moves for what feels like a long time, but you have no frame of reference and then it moves gently to a halt. There’s a muffled conversation and the backdoor opens and slams shut again and the van picks up speed. You lie there trying to be as quiet as possible. Your ass is burning from the caning, your bottom lip hurts and drips blood onto the dusty floor and the gag is making your mouth red and sore. But you’re happier here than you were on the hill. Whatever happens, you probably won’t be caned again and if the God-King finds you then you won’t be punished. It’s obvious you are being taken against your will. And lashing out at the Captain? After what he did to you? You could argue that off, you’re sure. Especially if Mr Stark’s around – he’ll be so pissed when he finds out about the double. 

The van moves for a very long time, for hours and hours. Every now and again it stops and you’re pulled out of your hiding spot and one of the men gives you a bottle of water to drink and a bucket to relieve yourself. The third time this happens it’s night outside and you’re surprise they’ve got this far. You see that one of the men is changing the license plates and someone else is unscrewing a black box from the dashboard and putting in a new one.  
“Where are we going?” You ask the soldier with the water.  
“Haven’t you heard, kid? You’re heading to the front to fight for the glory of the God-King.” A few of the other men laugh at this. You glance at the open back doors. Some of the men are outside smoking and there are at least five other vans parked by the road with them. This must be a scheduled pit stop.  
“Where am I really going?” You ask and the man pulls the gag back into your mouth.  
“Somewhere far away.” He tells you.  
You get back into the compartment without any complaint.

*

“Child?” You’re pulled out of sleep by the voice of the God-King. The van has stopped moving, the engine is silent and you think you are alone.  
“Child where are you?”  
You try to speak, but the gag is too tight and you just drool a bit instead.  
“They’ve gagged you?” His voice is soft and filled with concern.  
You blink twice.  
“Let me look through your eyes child, let me see where you are.”  
You feel the pressure in your head and you let him in. It’s weird, feeling his presence behind your eyes, but you can’t see anything in the dark and it doesn’t help him. You can feel his annoyance.  
“Show me your memories.” He orders but you refuse.  
You sense he’s weaker over distance, he needs your permission to get into your head and you’re not willing to give it. You can also feel through the feedback that even if he could take you by force, he is unsure of your condition and reluctant to do so.  
“Child I just want to help you.” He says gently.  
 _You took my name._ You mouth into the fabric.  
“This is no time…” He says testily.  
 _You took my name._  
“Child, for the love of Asgard…”  
 _Not hurt. Travelling somewhere. Being cared for. Wait a while._  
“Wait for what?”  
 _Until I get there._  
“But why would I…?” The God-King pauses as he considers the implications.  
 _They know. Who… I… Am…_ The mouthing is beginning to really hurt the skin around your lips and you have to pause between the last few words.  
“They know you are my child?”  
 _Yes._  
“I see.” The God-King goes silent for a while. “Did they say where…?”  
 _Far away._  
"Any more information than that?"  
 _No. But... could... be... important...?_ You pause to take a breath. _A... secret.. you... need...?_  
He goes quiet and you can feel him thinking it over, weighing up the pros and cons.  
“Very well. I will give you a day. Don’t die on me.”  
 _Do… My… Best…_  
You feel his phantom caress through your hair.  
“Be careful, child.”  
And then he’s gone and the feeling of loneliness is sudden and crushing. You close your eyes and cry yourself back to sleep. 

*

The days crawl by and you keep the time roughly by the light outside the van window when the men get you out during their breaks. Every second of third stop they change the licence plates and the black box again. They don’t talk to you, but they aren’t cruel either and you grow used to the constant dark of the space beneath the bench. You seem to be travelling roughly eight hours a day, not too arduous a journey. They leave you sleep alone in your compartment at night while you suppose the soldiers are camping out or at a barracks or something. At some point the other vans disappear and only your group remains. You must have left New York behind a long time ago, but you’ve no idea what direction they’re taking. You vaguely remember the harem slaves talking about the God-King taking the state of Pennsylvania, and how he’s crossing along the Canadian border to Michigan, but you’re not sure if your heard them right or not. You’re probably out of his territory all together – wasn’t HYDRA all over the world? It’s all really frustrating.

Every now and again the God-King comes to you. He said he’d give you a day, but really he seems to drop by every six or seven hours to check you’re still alive. Every time you tell him to wait, that you’re still travelling and when he leaves you are overcome with a feeling of horrible loneliness. You realise he’s doing it to you on purpose after the second time – even out here he can’t help but mess with your mind. Or maybe it’s a subtle punishment because you still won’t let him read your memories. If you let him, he’d probably be able to find you really quickly and during the time in the van you’ve realised you want to hold him off for as long as possible. You don’t want to go back and you certainly don’t want him reading that sentiment in your head. You know it won’t be forever, he’s keeping an eye on you and only the fact you’re travelling is stopping him from getting a fix on your position. Once you stop moving for more than a day he’ll zone in pretty quickly and know where you are. Then it’ll just be a matter of time before he has you again. You are his property, you belong to him. Whoever’s kidnapped you will feel the full extent of his wrath, you have no doubt. But until then, you’re more than willing to wait.

On the fourth day, by your reckoning, the van stops and the men get out. But their tread is different than normal, more military. This isn’t a break stop.  
The top is pulled off the bench and you squint up in the light.  
“Come on, child. Get out.” The voice is strange, European maybe… German? You push yourself into a sitting position and stand up in the space. Your ass is still tender, but it isn’t sore anymore and you can sit with only a modicum of discomfort. There a tall man standing by your bench with wide shoulders and a strong build. He seems to have a monocle wired to the side of his head.  
“I apologise for the long journey, but we had to be cautious. Any van deviating from their position or moving too quickly would have been flagged up and we don’t want to upset a god now do we?” You nod, not sure what to do. He reaches out and pulls the gag from of your mouth so it hangs wetly against your collar.  
“I don’t think you’re going to scream for help now, are you?” He asks smugly.  
“No, sir.” You say quietly, trying out your vocal chords after such a long, enforced silence.  
“I am Baron Wolfgang Von Strucker and I am now your master. You will defer to me in everything.”  
“Yes, Mr Strucker.” You say, inclining your head. He smiles tightly.  
“Herr Strucker.” He corrects you, his voice sharp and you shy back from him.  
“Herr Strucker.” You lower your eyes. “Apologies, sir.”  
“I see the god has trained you well. You will not resist?”  
You shake your head.  
“No, Herr Strucker.”  
“Well, then. Let’s get you ready for your flight.” 

He helps you step out of the box with a steading hand on your arm. Once you’re out he undoes the manacles and you rub your wrists to get feeling back into them. He steps out of the van first and then grips you around the waist to lift you down. His movements are efficient, but gentle. He doesn’t want to hurt you and you take it to be a good sign for at least the rest of the journey.  
“May I ask a question, Herr Strucker?” You ask politely.  
“It depends on the question.”  
“It doesn’t matter.” You shake your head. “I was only curious.”  
“Curiosity can be dangerous, but you may ask.”  
“Where am I?”  
“In Mexico. Very far from the American border. I am here on a fact finding mission and I am due to leave in under an hour. So do not get used to the weather.” He smiles as if he’s just said something really funny and you decide to humour him and smile back.  
“And where are we going?”  
“That is more than one question.”  
“My apologies, Herr Strucker. I have spent a long time in the dark wondering. Please forgive me.”  
He looks down at you, his expression appraising and you lower your eyes to the ground. This man says he is your master now, so you act the dutiful servant role as best as you can. He seems to be pleased by your timid baring and you make a note to stay that way around him.

“We are going to Russia. I have a very nice base in the country. Somewhere we can get down to finding out what exactly your god has done to you.”  
“I could tell you.” You offer hesitantly and Herr Strucker laughs. He reaches down and takes you palm.  
“I’m sure you would. But I think you do not know yourself.” He runs his fingers over the metal and the shockwaves move down past your elbow and into the meat of your tricep. You hiss in surprise and try to pull away.  
“That… tingles.” You explain at his disapproving expression.  
“I know it does. But I want to find out why.”  
“Why?” You ask surprised, you’d never thought about it before.  
“This is Asgardian design, little one. I have done my research. Which means it is probably Asgardian technology. We are serving your god while it suits us, but we cannot bend the knee to him. HYDRA was meant to rule the world, not live under the dictates of a mad alien.”  
“He’s not mad. He’s…” You start to protest and Herr Strucker runs his fingers over the metal again. It really is a weird feeling and it stops you talking.  
“You defend him, it is only natural. You’ve been on his leash for a long time. But now you will further the cause of HYDRA.” He smiles at you politely but his next words cut you deeply. “Whether you are willing or not.”  
“I won’t fight you, Herr Strucker.” You say mirroring his politeness. “I hate him more than you could possibly know.”  
“Very good.” He leads you across the packed desert sand and towards the airstrip. There’s a private jet waiting for you both. “I will hold you to that.”  
The men get back in the van and it drives off towards another destination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So action and a plot twist - bet you didn't see that coming. 
> 
> Hail HYDRA! :p
> 
> And if someone told me that I'd be researching the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens for a fan fic a few months ago I would have laughed at them. The things I do for you guys (and gals)...


	20. The Rage of The God-King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So.” He says after a suitable pause. “How did you fair under the God-King of the World?”  
> “As well as could be expected.” You shrugged. “I survived. Somehow.”  
> “He was not kind?”  
> “He liked to push me, to see how far a human can endure compared to him. Sometimes he pushed me too far.” You take a sip of water and nibble on a chip coated in ketchup.  
> “Ah. His fabled Asgardian constitution. Is it as formidable as we are led to believe?”  
> “Well he’s strong, really strong, Captain America strong and he can twist your mind, make you see things that aren’t there. He can take your memories and put other things in their place.”  
> “A frightening creature to have as your captor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where the kid is honest to keep Strucker happy and Loki isn't pleased.
> 
> Summary:  
> Strucker holds a civilised interrogation.  
> More mind-rape, coz Loki enjoys that kind of stuff, the sicko.  
> The kid realises they're now skating on really thin ice.  
> What happened to the Captain. (Loki so isn't pleased.)

*

The private plane was everything you’d been led to expect from the movies. Tasteful décor, lace trimmed curtains and thick leather sofa seating. There are two covered plates on the pull-out table and Herr Strucker gestures for you to take the opposite seat. He pours water from a pitcher by the side and pushes the glass to you.  
“Eat.” He says, more of an order than anything else and you pull back the cover to find a cheese burger and chips. “Your last taste of America.” He says smiling. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”  
“Is there ketchup?” You ask and he smiles and sits back in his seat. He lazily calls a man from the other room and speaks to him in German. A small bottle of ketchup is forthcoming.  
“Thank you.” You bob your head happily in gratitude and start to eat.  
Herr Strucker’s plate is filled with steamed green beans with garden peas, small potatoes swimming in butter and a large piece of salmon fillet. You’re eating with your fingers, but you pause as he reaches into a small box you hadn’t even noticed and pulls out a silver knife and fork wrapped in a napkin.  
“I’m sorry, Herr Strucker. I didn’t see them.” You stutter out but he gestures to show he doesn’t care.  
“Enjoy your meal.” He smiles and starts to eat, but you’re suddenly not hungry. His tone holds such finality as if this meal is going to be your last. You look down at the gourmet burger, made of prime beef and mozzarella cheese and you decide you don’t care and begin to eat again.

“So.” He says after a suitable pause. “How did you fair under the God-King of the World?”  
“As well as could be expected.” You shrugged. “I survived. Somehow.”  
“He was not kind?”  
“He liked to push me, to see how far a human can endure compared to him. Sometimes he pushed me too far.” You take a sip of water and nibble on a chip coated in ketchup.  
“Ah. His fabled Asgardian constitution. Is it as formidable as we are led to believe?”  
“Well he’s strong, really strong, Captain America strong and he can twist your mind, make you see things that aren’t there. He can take your memories and put other things in their place.”  
“A frightening creature to have as your captor.”  
“He’s fast too, rattlesnake quick and well trained. I watched him take a man apart with just a knife and his reflexes.”  
“Alec Williamson.”  
“You heard?”  
“A particularly bloody night in New York City. The largest casualties in a single night since the war started.” Herr Strucker nods. “Everyone heard.”  
“But surely other people are dying while the war expands…?”  
“Thousands every night.” Herr Strucker agrees. “But twenty thousand people, in less than four hours? An admirable feat of efficiency.”  
“Oh.” 

Herr Strucker chuckles at your obvious surprise.  
“You did not know?”  
“I knew the number and I knew what happened, but less than four hours? I didn’t know that. I don’t know, it brings it into context somehow…?”  
“Do you fear him?”  
“Terribly.”  
“Will that be a problem?” He asks it casually, looking down at his food and he only makes eye contact when you do. He takes a mouthful of salmon and watches your reaction carefully.  
“Herr Strucker, when the God-King first took my life as his own property, he used to discipline me by going into my head and causing me pain. Not headaches or migraines but terrible, unstoppable pain. Like he was turning my entire body against me. And he’d do it over nothing at all, a hesitation or a stupid remark said when I was out of my mind with fear or exhaustion. He’d push me until I didn’t know where I was or what I was doing and then he would punish me for it. Of course I fear him, any sane person would, but if you want help to bring him down, I will help you.”  
Herr Strucker nods thoughtfully as he chews on his food. He takes another sip of water and nods as he swallows.  
“Very good.”  
The plane engine rumbles to life and he shows you how to put on your seat belt. 

A man comes and tries to take the plates and you resist just long enough to finish your burger. Herr Strucker watches with open amusement at your antics as the plane taxis down the run way. As it pulls into the air you gasp at the head-rush, you’ve never flown before and the simple euphoria of take-off is amazing.  
“This is your first time?” Herr Strucker asks and you nod, turning to look eagerly out of the window. “You speak like an adult, but you get exciting like a child.” He observes dryily.  
“I do?”  
“Hmm.” He says in agreement sitting back and running his hand over the leather arm of the couch.  
“Mr Selvig said I had to grow up too fast.” You say after a short while to marshal your thoughts. “I’m fourteen, but he said he could tell I’d matured quickly.”  
“Erik Selvig is alive?”  
“He was trapped in Stark Tower by the Tesseract. The God-King broke through the force-field and we found him there.”  
“How did he break it?”  
“With the sceptre.” You tell him and you can see his disappointment.  
“That isn’t much help.” He says. “I was hoping for something simpler, something more accessible.”  
“I’m sorry it wasn’t something easier.” You say and he waves it off.  
“It doesn’t matter. Who else is alive? Out of the Avengers and those that served the god during his initial actions against SHIELD?”  
“I don’t know…?” You say uncertainly. “Ummmm… Well Mr Stark’s alive, the Captain, obviously and Hawkeye. Black Widow is being held by you…?”  
“For the time being, yes.”  
“I don’t know anyone else.”  
“Thor and Jane Foster?” He asks and you look at him blankly.  
“Thor is the God-King’s brother right?”  
“Yes.”  
“And Mr Selvig asked after a Jane… But I don’t know.”  
“Very well. Mr Banner?”  
“Who’s he?”  
“An exceptional scientist, can turn into a giant green rage monster.” Herr Strucker smiles at the ludicrous sentence.  
“Oh, he’s very dead.” You say instantly.  
“Really?”  
“The God-King decapitated him. I was there.”  
“And the remains?” Herr Stucker asks and again you know he’s going to be disappointed.  
“Taken by the Chitauri.” You shrug. “Sorry, Herr Strucker.”  
“No matter. So long as the research on him is being done.” Herr Strucker sighs in frustration. “I am sure I can find a way to get hold of it.” 

“Sir?” The man has appeared again. “The God-King wishes an audience with you over the viability of the Mexico situation.”  
“Already? But we are barely in the air. I have not even finished eating.”  
“He needs to know the border situation and the diplomatic agreements. The com operator was most insistent.”  
Herr Strucker looks at you and sighs.  
“Very well, take the child to the lock-up and tell him I will be ready to speak with him in ten minutes.”  
“As you wish, Herr Strucker.”  
The man brings out the remainder of his meal, then takes your arm and pulls you away down the carpeted walkway of the plane.

The lock-up is not as terrible as it sounds. A small room at the back of the plane with a pull-out wooden slat bench and a small table with another pitcher of water and an empty tumbler.  
“What if they’re ages and I need the bathroom?” You ask and the man shows you the pull-out lavatory.  
“It works as normal, the flush is this button here. It all goes to the same septic tank at the end of the day.” He sounds resigned to the fact as if he knows it far too intimately. He pushes the plastic toilet bowl back into the wall with a click. “Now you be quiet. No shouting or banging. We do not want you making a fuss or drawing attention to yourself.”  
“The God-King will be here?”  
“As a hologram, talking with Herr Strucker.”  
“Where can I hide?” You ask, your voice mock serious and the man smiles.  
“You will be locked in here until the meeting ends.”  
“I’ll keep real quiet.” You promise.  
“I will be on the other side of the door. If I hear anything…” He pulls out a pair of chains, one for each wrist from under the seat. “And you will stay in here for the rest of the journey.”  
“I understand. I’ll behave.”  
He nods, leaves and locks the door behind him.

“Well he’s very disagreeable.” You turn in shock to see the God-King looking out of the circular window on the other side of the room.  
“I thought you were… Outside…?” You struggle to find any words at all.  
“Oh, I am. And I’m here as well. More than two, less than a hundred remember?” He turns and smiles at you and you push back further into your seat. You hate that smile, it means someone’s going to get hurt. He turns and strides towards you.  
“Aren’t you glad to see me?” He asks, looming over you.  
“Just surprised that’s all, Majesty. Just surprised.” You look hurriedly at your feet. “There’s a man outside, listening and there’s probably cameras.”  
“Neither bring me any worry. He will be deaf and the cameras are primitive little things, easy to trick.”  
The God-King crouches down in front of you. “So, looking forward to being dissected?” He asks, his voice bright and eager, like he’s talking about a daytrip out or something.  
“What?” You ask.  
“For your secrets. You don’t know Strucker at all do you?” He grins. “You’re going to have to make a good case for him to keep you alive.”  
“Aren’t you angry at him?”  
“Oh, I’m livid, child. Heads will roll for this.” His grin is still eager, still playful and you know he’s absolutely furious. You decide to play the abused kid. If the God-King attacks you in this compartment, no one would hear you screaming.

“I didn’t want to leave the Empire State.” You tell him, your voice small with fear. “I begged him not to.”  
“I know. I know.” His ghost hand statics through your hair. “I’m still amazed at how thoroughly the Captain tricked me into thinking he was completely under my will. I’m still finding out how he did it.”  
“Did what?”  
“Disobeyed me so perfectly, without my realising.”  
“I don’t understand.”  
“Why did he take you to Prospect Park? Why there of all places? It’s one of the few open spaces in New York which is manned by HYDRA at all times. There’s no way they wouldn’t come over to investigate and no way Strucker wouldn’t be tempted at the opportunity you presented.”  
“So you’re saying he wanted HYDRA to kidnap me?”  
“And the fake chase, deliberately taking a bullet and falling? I’ve fought the Captain, I’ve seen how he works and that was sloppy, show fighting. He let you get away.”  
“But why?”  
“Because now everyone will scrabble to own you. A little piece of genuine Asgard technology, out in the world and on the run. He’s hoping you’ll fall into the right hands, SHIELD probably.” The God-King sighs in regret and looks at you sternly. “I ought to kill you, it would make my life far easier.” 

After a moment of absolute, paralysing terror, you slide onto the carpeted floor and fall to your knees before him. You know he could do it, even this far away. He can’t do fine work, like getting into your head without harming you. But something so brutal and uncontained as ending your life? It would be no problem at all.  
“Majesty, please. Please don’t. I’ll find a way back to you, I swear it.” You fall forward on your hands, pressing your head hard against the carpet. He could turn your brain to mush with a few words and a gesture of his hand. He could claim that by escaping you have abused his goodwill, he could kill you legally and through the words of your bond. You crawl forward in supplication, prostrating yourself before him and he laughs.  
“I didn’t say I was going to.” The God-King tuts softly. “But your pleading is very sweet. I think you should stay like that a while.” He stands, turns on his heel and goes back to looking out of the window. 

“I don’t blame you for any of this, child.” He says sadly. “You were helpless to resist either faction and while I can’t openly work against Strucker at this moment, there are avenues open to me to secure your return.” He sighs heavily. “They aren’t guaranteed though, unfortunately.”  
He goes quiet and you know he’s thinking about what to do.  
“I’m going to have to find your replacement.” He says and you groan in fear.  
“Majesty…”  
“Because I can’t waste my time hoping you’ll come back to me.” He says sharply, cutting you off mid-sentence. He continues in a calmer voice. “All the same, this might be a blessing in disguise. I will find out where Strucker keeps his main base of operations and we get to see how well you have learned your lessons.”  
“You’re not going to kill me?”  
“So very fixated on one issue, aren’t we?” The God-King says and you can feel that evil grin on his face. “No child, I am not going to kill you. Not yet.”  
“Thank you, Majesty, thank you.”  
“Don’t get up.” He says, not that you were going to. “I’m not finished.”  
“I’m listening.”  
“I’ll stay in touch, we’ll keep in close contact and you will open your mind to me. I want to know everything Strucker does to you, every corridor you go down, every security protocol you witness. Do this and our relationship will be cordial.” His voice turns hard. “Resist me again or whine about your name one more time…”  
“I won’t, I promise.” You agree and you feel him relax.  
“Then show me what you have discussed while you dined with him.”  
You feeling him closing in around you and though you start to cry, you let him in completely. 

He takes his time opening you up and looking around. You feel a few flashes of his own thoughts and this is new enough to make you curious, but the first one you look at are methods to dissect you over distance and so you don’t look at the rest. He’s put them there to scare you witless, to punish you for your resistance. There are so many things he could do to you, even now, so many terrible things and you just don’t want to know.  
“A wise choice.” The God-King agrees and you shy from him. Shivering away from a bodiless hologram at a window. Instinctively trying to get away from something that isn’t even physically there. You feel his contempt at your foolishness. So instead you reach out to him, feeling back along the connection. Anything to keep you occupied while he does whatever he’s going to do to you. He stiffens in surprise at your action and then relaxes and allows it, like the time you hugged him.  
“You would bring that up.” The God-King mutters. “I should have punished you.”  
“You liked it. Admit it.” You chide him, greatly daring, and he catches you up and holds you still. He’s gentle, but you can’t fight him and you wait to see what he’s going to do. He laughs, caresses your mind and allows you to go on your way. You reach his physical body and it’s so far from where you are, you feel like you’re blind and groping forward.  
“You’re at the Empire State.” You whisper as the information comes. “In the… throne room?”  
You feel his approval and he moves you around slightly, guiding you, nudging you forward and suddenly you’re seeing through his eyes. 

_He’s sat at the throne in full regal splendour with his elbow on the arm of the chair and his chin in his hand. He’s watching Hawkeye taking a knife to the Captain’s back. The heavier man is shackled to the wall and you can feel the magic vibrating through the chains that hold him still.  
“Tell me again, Captain. The truth this time.” The God-King’s voice vibrates in your throat, his throat and you can see that the Captain has already been flayed down both his arms and half his back. Hawkeye moves in again and the other man screams._

And you’re pulling away and pulling away and pulling away, all the way back along the connection. He catches you again and this time, though he’s still gentle, his intent is far crueller.  
“Don’t you want to watch?” He asks, his voice dark and awful. “I thought you’d enjoy it.”  
“No!” You shout and wriggle in his grasp.  
“Don’t you want to see how it ends?”  
“No. No no, please…”  
“I could make you…”  
“Majesty, Majesty, please. Just take what you want and go. I won’t resist, just take it and leave me be. Please.”  
“Such a weak stomach. Your replacement needs to be made of sterner stuff.” But he lets you go and you fall, trembling and pitifully grateful, back into your own head.  
“I have what I need.” He tells you. “I’ll leave you to your own company.”  
“Thank you, Majesty.”  
“I’ll leave the connection open. If you change your mind…”  
“I… I… Thank you, Majesty.” You grovel to him and he’s amused by your submission.  
“I should let you escape more often. You’re far more compliant.”  
“Yes, Majesty.”  
“Sweet dreams, child.”  
“Wha…?” But before you can finish the word he comes down on you hard, a violent and vicious mental blow that drives all thought before it and pushes you unstoppably towards unconsciousness.

As you disappear you feel a final flash of his rage and fury at your weakness, at how easily he’s managed to lose you and you know that you will never escape his wrath. Not ever. Not while you live.  
And what’s worse – that you deserve it for being so pathetic, so helpless. You deserve to suffer for the lapse in your loyalty, for the things you said to Strucker. You deserve it for being nothing more than another stupid mortal who’s let him down once again. He thought you were different – he had even started to like you…  
No more. No more pity, no more mercy. You will obey him, or you will die.  
_I’ll do whatever you want, Majesty. Whatever you need. I promise._ You tell him and you feel him pulling back in surprise. He thought you were gone, thought you’d passed out seconds before. You feel his pain, his self-loathing, his hatred for what he has become. And then he reaches out with a heavy and reluctant heart and he snuffs your mind out like a candle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter ends on a little bit of angst, but it's more uncontrolled anger than anything else. Loki definitely *Does Not Need A Hug* so don't you dare try it - he will end you.
> 
> A little shorter than normal (lol, when did 3,000 words become short?) but it seemed a good place to finish.
> 
> See you all soon.


	21. Internal Dilemmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The building you’re processed in is like the worse prison drama you’ve ever seen. Your clothes are stripped off you and put in the incinerator right in front of your eyes. You’re thrown into a wire cage where they cover you with white powder. It sticks to the back of your throat and makes you cough and it smells terrible. You shriek in surprise as they dowse you from above with a cold hose of water. The guards watching laugh at you. You try not to cry and to hide your nudity from them, both with limited success. The powder makes your eyes water anyway, so it’s not hard to cover your tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where the kid learns prisons are really that bad, but are they as bad as the God-King?  
> They also learn a horrifying truth about what the God-King is doing to them.  
> The kid meets their new replacement. 
> 
> So a bad and kinda levelling chapter for the kid, interpersed with black humour and thoughtful commentary. Quite a bit of internal dialogue and a few insights into what it means to be a true survivor. Kind of the opening chapter in the next HYDRA centric part of the story and what Loki is doing in the meantime.

*

You come round to the man shaking your shoulder. You’re mildly surprised, when the God-King had reached out that final time, you’d thought it was all over. The pain, reluctance and sadness had been so real, like when he said goodbye to you before holding you off Stark Tower... He actually does like you, maybe he even cares a little. Granted it won’t stop him taking what he wants and making you beg and crawl. It won’t stop him ending your life when he feels it appropriate. But it did make him knock you out cold rather than unfurling his true anger on you, so maybe there was a little hope there. Maybe a little leeway. You have to believe this or you think you’d go mad.

You shake your head and lift your arm to show you’re awake.  
“Your nose is bleeding.” The man says in heavily accented English and you reach up and touch the wetness on your upper lip.   
“I think I fainted?” You say weakly, looking at the red on your fingertips. The man looks worried. He gives you a paper napkin and you wipe it away.   
“Do you know why?” He asks. “How do you feel?”  
“I was sat on the bench and then… Then the world started to spin. I don’t feel too bad now, maybe a little queasy…” And isn’t that a turn up for the books? Normally after the God-King has been in your head you’re vomiting your guts out. You must be getting used to it. Great.   
You reach out and feel the connection between your mind and his. It’s still open but you don’t make contact. Instead you mark where it is in your head and you quarantine the area. You don’t want to stumble there by mistake.   
The man pours you a tumbler of water and sits you up on the floor. You take it gratefully and start to drink. 

“Is the God-King still here?” You ask timidly and the man shakes his head.   
“Gone ten minutes now.”   
“Good.”  
“Herr Strucker is making notes on the conversation and then he will be through to see you.” The man raises a hand. “Here, follow my finger with your eyes only.” You do it perfectly and he nods to himself. “Well probably no concussion. You’ve been through a lot, not eaten or drank much since the liberation and then wolfed a whole burger down in record time.” He shrugs. “You may be okay, it’s hard to be sure, but we’ll check once we get on the ground. We don’t have the facilities here.”   
“I feel okay.” You lie with a smile. “And look, the nose bleed is stopping.” You raise the napkin to show him. “Maybe it was an air pressure thing… Like when your ears pop when you go to a different altitude?”   
“Maybe…” The man is doubtful. “Is very rare though. Your first time flying?” You nod. “You suffer travel sickness?”  
“Sometimes.” You say, aware you’ve just spent four days in a van without any problems.  
“It could be that.” The man agrees. “We will hope.”  
“Okay.” You sip at the water and sit with him in a companionable silence while he pats you awkwardly on the back in reassurance. 

When Herr Strucker comes in he looks at you both with an arrogance the God-King would have been proud of.   
“What’s wrong with it?” He asks the man.  
“I don’t know, sir.” The man answers and Herr Strucker glares down at you.  
“Well?”  
“I… I fainted, Herr Strucker.”  
“Why?” He demands and you shake your head.   
“I don’t know why.”   
He sighs.  
“Leave us and lock the door. Go and send my orders to the outposts in North American and Mexico.” He pauses to think. “And Canada as well, they should be aware.”  
“Yes, Herr Strucker.” The man stands, clicks his heels together and gives a weird salute, both arms out-stretched and made into fists.  
“Hail HYDRA!”   
“Hail HYDRA.” Herr Stucker repeats without as much enthusiasm and with no salute either. The man leaves to carry out his orders. Herr Strucker waits until the door is locked behind him and then walks up to you.  
“Stand. Sit.” He gestures to the pull-out seat. Once you’re comfortable he sits next to you. You shift away uncomfortably until you’re no longer touching. It means you have to perch on the edge, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make. 

“So.” He says, sitting forward with his elbows on his knees. “What really happened?”   
“I don’t know, Herr Strucker.”  
“Come now. Don’t play games, little one. Something happened while I was talking with your god.”   
“Nothing happened, your man would have heard it.”  
“He didn’t hear you falling from your seat. We didn’t know you had passed out until the young prince left and we checked on you. Something like that should have been very loud, don’t you think so?”  
“I don’t know, Herr Strucker.”   
He tenses and you expect him to hit you, but instead he just smiles and chuckles to himself.  
“You think I am stupid?”  
“No, Herr Strucker.” You don’t know why you’re holding out, but you don’t want to tell him what happened. Even if it was Mr Stark sitting there, you wouldn’t want to say. Maybe if it was Erik Selvig you would, but then he understands better than most what you’re going through. You know you can’t trust Herr Strucker, maybe even less than the God-King, but you don’t want to seem unco-operative either. It’s a hard choice to make.   
Herr Strucker looks at you and sighs. 

“I thought we had agreed to be honest with each other, hmmm?”   
“I have been honest with you.”   
“Then why hold back now?”   
“I…” You look away. “I…”   
“He tried to kill you didn’t he.” It isn’t a question. You look up at him in shock.  
“What?”  
“Your god tried to kill you, yes? While we were talking he decided you were a liability.”  
“Yes.” The lie comes as easily as the tears. “Yes he did.”  
“But it was unsuccessful.”  
“I’m too far away now. If I’d been any closer…”   
“How did it happen?”   
“I felt him, in my head. It was like, like those times he used to hurt me, when he used to make the pain start. But it was much worse than that, the contact was hard, like a blade running through my head. And, and then it expanded like… What’s the word? Like those bombs… The ones filled with sharp pieces…?”  
“Flechette, perhaps?”   
“I think so… and I just… passed out…”  
“Did he contact you? Did he try to speak with you?”  
“No.” You bury your face in your hands and wipe away the errant tears in the hope you can hide your expression in case it gives you away. “He… He just attacked me…”  
“So he doesn’t know where you are?”  
“I don’t know. I don’t think so…”  
“He was civil to me, calm when we talked. His usual intelligent, distant, arrogant self… If he had known…” Herr Strucker seems to come to his own conclusion.

“Does he know you are still alive?” He asks.  
“Probably?” You answer. “I mean he almost managed it, but he’ll know he over-reached himself. He might think he’s left me fatally wounded, but he’s not the type to leave things to chance…”   
“No.” Herr Strucker agrees. “But if distance makes him weaker, very soon he will be no threat to you at all.” He stands and puts his hand on your shoulder. “You’re sure he didn’t track you?”  
“I’m sure.” Now you’re in the flow this lie comes easily. Herr Strucker kneels down and takes the chains out from under the bench.   
“Give me your hands.” He says and you hesitate.  
“I won’t try to run away, Herr Strucker.” You say and he smiles coldly.   
“Give me your hands.”   
You do as he says and lets him shackle you to the bench. He pulls out another seat next to the one you’re sitting on and takes a blanket and a pillow from an overhead locker.   
“The chains will allow you to reach the toilet, but no further.” He tells you and you nod miserably.  
“You are now officially a prisoner of HYDRA. You’re god cannot protect you anymore and so you are mine.”  
“Yes, Herr Strucker.”   
“Get some sleep, child. In your future you will forget what it feels like. We have plans and you will be busy in service to us.”   
“Yes, Herr Strucker.”   
“Don’t look so down.” He says, cuffing your shoulder in a friendly gesture. “Serving HYDRA is an honour and privilege.”  
You smile weakly.   
“Of course, Herr Strucker.” You hope he isn’t going to ask you to do the dumb salute.  
He pulls a keyring out of his pocket which is connected by a thin chain and finds the one to unlock the door. You try to memorise the different keys on the ring and get a good look at each one. He leaves and locks the door behind him and you sigh and stretch out on the make-shift, hard and creaking bed.

You wait until you’re as comfortable as you’re going to get and go back to the connection between you and the God-King. You touch it gently and wait until you feel his interest.  
“Well, I’m still alive.” You tell him and he laughs.   
“Of course.”   
“I hate you.”  
“Accepted and understood.” You can feel his grin from here. “You were out for two hours, if you’re interested. I waited until you were stirring before I finished my meeting.”  
“I have some information you might be interested in.”  
“Oh?” You send him what you saw with the keyring.  
“That’s a lot of keys.” He says drily.   
“Well, it’s a start, right?”  
“It’s a start. Thank you child.”   
“Strucker thinks I’m beyond your range now. And he thinks you tried to kill me and that was why I was unconscious.”  
“You? Lying convincingly?”   
“Well it’s easier when they can’t see into your head.”   
“That’s true enough.” The God-King admits sardonically.  
“He’s officially taken me prisoner now he thinks you can’t interfere.”  
“I doubt he’ll bring it up anyway.” The God-King says. “He’s a terrible coward behind all that bravado. He wouldn’t dare to publically defy me.”   
“How’s the Captain?”   
“Disinfected and in his own private cell. He acted alone, unfortunately. I’ll let him heal and use the sceptre on him again, he’s too useful to discard and he’s a good soldier, despite what he did.”  
“I’m glad you didn’t kill him.”  
“That’s because you’re weak, child.”  
“I know.”  
“I’m closing the connection now. I’ll be in touch once I have all your potential replacements rounded up. But if you need to contact me, you know what to do.”  
“Yes, Majesty.”   
“Be a good little prisoner.”  
“I will.  
He severs the connection. You can still feel the nub in your mind to touch if you want to talk to him again. He has not abandoned you.

You’re not sure why you contacted him, but it was good to have a civilised conversation after his anger from before. When you come right down to it he’s part of your life now and since you can’t get rid of him then you might as well have the company. And you miss him – hard as it is to admit. No one is going to ruffle your hair here, no one is going to sit with you during breakfast while they read the newspaper and there is not going to be any ice cream. Enchanted or not. After they torture you HYDRA are not going to feel guilty and cook you scrambled eggs to make up for it. And Mr Stark can’t defend you here. You’re really going to miss Mr Stark. You sigh and turn over on the hard slatted bed. Maybe you can live without the ice cream.

*

You sleep badly, drifting in and out, having cold frightening nightmares where you are still in the city and the war is still raging around you. You’re glad when the man comes and wakes you up. He unchains you and takes you to a seat where you put the belt on and wait for the plane to land. Landing is nowhere near as good as taking off. It’s like you left your stomach at thirty thousand feet and when the wheels hit the ground you bounce on the cushion.

As soon as the plane stops moving the door opens and an armed escort comes in and takes you out of your seat. They’re two big burly men in the HYDRA uniform, but they don’t wear the weird gasmask helmets like the ones in New York. You get out of your seat quietly and you don’t make any trouble. They take you to an open topped car and force you in the middle of the back seat, so you’re crushed between them. You don’t see where Herr Strucker goes but he doesn’t travel with you. You appear to be in a poor East European town, the women wear those flowered headscarves you see on TV and the men all have hard faces and seem to sit around smoking. The car goes up the hill to a massive square fortress-like building and after several check points you roll through. The wall of the fortress is huge, about ten feet thick, you wonder if there are rooms in it for the guards and stuff.

Before you enter the fortress proper you drive under a metal arch, like a gigantic metal detector and it flickers like it holds some sort of scanning technology. A man comes out and you’re forced out of the vehicle so he can look at you. He frowns at the paper, frowns at you, shakes his head and then gestures for them to continue. So you see the force-field flicker off as you get back into the car. In the backseat you wouldn’t have seen it properly. As you pass through you look out of the back window to see it coming back online. It flickers blue, like the Tesseract, but the colour’s faded and no where near as vibrant. You watch it until it disappears, it’s actually clear once it’s fully online, that’s interesting… The God-King will be happy to know about it.

The building you’re processed in is like the worse prison drama you’ve ever seen. Your clothes are stripped off you and put in the incinerator right in front of your eyes. You’re thrown into a wire cage where they cover you with white powder. It sticks to the back of your throat and makes you cough and it smells terrible. You shriek in surprise as they dowse you from above with a cold hose of water. The guards watching laugh at you, you try not to cry and to hide your nudity from them, both with limited success. The powder makes your eyes water anyway, so it’s not hard to cover your tears. A man stands with a scratchy towel to dry you and you almost run at the idea of a stranger touching you in that way. But you manage to control your impulse and submit to the indignity of it. You have to appear to be compliant at all times, you can’t risk alienating these people. He’s roughly efficient and impersonal about the whole thing and you’re grateful for it. They throw these horrid, mouldy grey clothes at you and you put them on without a word. They’re way too big on you and the arms flap about. You push them back but it doesn’t do very much. They give you a belt to cinch around the huge waistline, so that’s something and the shoes they give you rub and feel damp, but they fit okay. 

“Take the collar off.” One of the men watching says and the man with the towel comes up and unstraps it from the back. He tries to pull it off and you scream in pain. He goes to yank it but the watching man raises a hand. He’s just been given the piece of paper from the scanner.   
“Stop!” He comes forward. He has gold buttons on his shoulder straps, so you figure he’s an officer of some sort. He takes the collar and lifts it experimentally. It comes away at the back and the sides, but won’t come away from your throat, where the gold circle is pressed against your larynx.   
“It’s attached.” He says. His fingers probe the edge and you can feel thread like sensations pulling at the skin and deep inside, around your oesophagus. “It’s like fine wire.”  
“Shall we cut it off?” The first man asks and the officer shakes his head.  
“We’ll leave that to the scientists and Herr Strucker.” He replaces it around your neck and buckles the leather straps back on loosely. “We might rip its throat out if they’re deep in there.”   
Shit. _Shitshitshit._ You don’t know how you stave off the panic, but somehow you do. The officer sees your fear.   
“You did not know?” He asks you and you shake your head. “Interesting.” He turns to the man.  
“Take it to the cell and inform Herr Strucker of this development.”   
The man nods, clicks his heels and makes the weird double handed salute again.  
“Hail HYDRA.”  
“Hail HYDRA.”

*

The cell is damp, sticky and horrid. There’s a bucket off to one side for your business and the bunk is held a few feet off the floor by chains bolted into the walls. The mattress is stuffed with straw. And you thought Mr Stark’s cell was grim. Now you’d give anything for some dry black glass walls and a hole in the corner of the room. There’s a tiny barred window that gives no light at all about ten feet up and when the door swings shut it clangs with a dull finality. It’s several inches thick, made of steel and has two hatches, one at the bottom for food and one at eye height to see the prisoner. Once it’s closed it’s so dim you can’t see at all. You fumble to the bed, lie down and try not to listen to the scurrying noises that start up beneath you.

Your hand comes up unconsciously to your neck and you start to feel underneath around the circle. The officer hasn’t strapped it on as tight as the God-King did and there’s room to move your fingers around and explore. It hurts, it really hurts, the skin is tender now and you can feel the wires going into your throat. Thin tiny strands, too rigid to be thread and in complete line with the edge of the gold metal disc.   
No sexual assault and don’t remove the collar. That’s what the God-King had told the Captain. Shit, what has he done to you? What if the circle on your palm is the same thing? What if there’s wires in your hand, in your wrist? Is that why it tingles when you touch it? Is that why the tingles had been steadily going further down your arm these last few months? Is it growing inside of you?   
Moving inside of you? You’re utterly terrified. Asgardian technology, that’s what the God-King said. This is some sort of alien tech from his homeworld. Shit, you thought Asgard was so beautiful, so noble and now you realise he’s changing you from the inside out. Are you even human anymore, or some sort of fucking cyborg? Though, thinking about it, it could be cool to be a cyborg…

You lie back and take a few long deep breaths. Okay, another lie, another betrayal. But this one doesn’t hurt, hasn’t hurt you at all the whole time. You didn’t even know the collar was going into your skin. You shudder at the thought of it, but if it had forced its way in like a needle you would have known ages ago. So it must have been real slow, insidious, like a plant root system slowly moving through soil…  
You shudder again.  
How deep does it go? It is dangerous? Possibly not, you’ve had the palm mark for over a month now with no ill effects and the collar was put on only a short while after that. You reach up and touch the metal disc on the collar. Nothing, no tingle. So you open your hand, take a deep breath and flatten the metal on your palm against it instead.   
Agony. Utter, utter agony. So paralysing that you can’t scream, your voice box won’t work. It takes a massive amount of willpower to move your hand away and you lie there panting. The wire is all the way down into your chest, it hurts all the way down to your upper lungs.  
 _Shitshitshit._  
You put your forearm against your chest and measure the distance from where the pain still throbs in your torso and arm. The pain in your arm is all the way into the tricep now and is much longer than the pain going down into your chest. Which is about half the length of your forearm. Okay, so it’s moving slower, but it’s way more spread out, it’s against your spine as well and it feels like it’s behind your breastbone and upper ribs. So it’s not elongating as quickly because it has more places to go than your arm. Okay.   
_Don’tfreakoutDon’tfreakoutDon’tfreakout…_  
So what do you do now? 

Let HYDRA X-ray it or whatever, you suppose. Submit to whatever test they want and don’t confront the God-King about it. It’s not worth the argument right now and you can’t deal with this new discovery. You’d just break down and that would be it. You’d get in contact and just be a snivelling kid at him. Definitely not worth it. Let it sink in first.   
Like the wires in you flesh…  
You shudder again.  
Shit. And he’s going to do this to another kid now. He’s going to find a replacement and make a deal with them and do exactly the same thing. Why? What the fuck is this stuff? Now the comment about not having time to waste waiting for you to return makes a bit more sense. If it’s taken a month to grow this far it’s going to be three or four before it’s properly through your entire body and fully integrated…  
Shit.  
 _StaycalmStaycalmStaycalm…_  
You take another few long hard breaths.   
Okay.  
So he’s done this to you for a reason, and it’s partly magical in origin because it woke your talent up.   
Okay.  
And it needs to be a kid, an adolescent. He can’t do this to an adult.  
Okay. Why not?  
Some sort of developmental thing? It needs to grow with the body maybe? You don’t have enough information to go on. You might be wrong, he might just need a human host and age doesn’t matter. Maybe he just wants someone he can easily dominate and control. So he uses a kid because it’s just easier than clashing with an adult… Maybe, because an adult’s bigger, it’d take longer to grow and his plan is time dependant.   
It is time dependant, he’s already admitted as much.  
Okay.  
You wish Mr Stark were here, he’d know what to do…  
Or he’d at least ruffle your hair, give you a hug and tell you not to worry, that he’d save you.  
It’d be a lie, but a good, well-intentioned lie.  
A hug would be really great right now, or any comfort at all.  
There are boots outside…

You lie there listening to the footsteps as they get closer. You hold your breath as they stop outside your room. There’s a silence which seems to stretch forever and then the bottom hatch opens and something metal slides through the opening. You glance down and see the bowl and spoon just as the hatch closes again and plunges you back into the dark. The boots walk away.   
You bang your heels on the bed until the scrabbling underneath stops and then you get up and retrieve the bowl from the floor. It’s gruel, some sort of fowl tasting cabbagey rice concoction. No more burgers for you now. You eat it anyway, you don’t know when they’re going to feed you again. Out of polite habit you get up and put the empty bowl by the hatch so the guard can get it easily and then go and lie down on your bunk again. You feel exhaustion slowly creeping up on you and let it come. As the scratching starts underneath you, you’re already half asleep.

*

You wake up to a deep thrumming hum that seems to be in your very bones. Your eyes open and you’re in some sort of circular, man-made cave. You’re strapped down to a stretcher and you can’t move. The noise is horrendous.  
“Erm, Herr Strucker. We think it’s awake…” Someone’s stood right next to you with a clipboard, looking at the read outs. They’ve just spoken into a microphone at their lapel. Who knows if Herr Strucker can hear anything from the reverberating noise all around you.  
Then you realise. They drugged you? The gruel was drugged. Who the fuck drugs gruel? You think about struggling, but decide against it. What’s the point? If you behave, maybe they won’t drug the gruel again. And you’re pretty well strapped down. And there’s nowhere you could go, even if you did escape. They’re HYDRA thugs everywhere in their black moulded armour. So you just sigh in resignation and wait to see what will happen.

Herr Strucker turns up beside you and looks down with his haughty arrogance.   
“Why aren’t you panicking?” He asks you as the noise begins to die down. You shrug as best as you can in the restraints.   
“Should I be panicking?” You ask. It hadn’t really occurred to you. Finding out about the collar had pretty much panicked you out for the day. A weird, noisy scanning machine thing doesn’t really cut it compared to that.   
“Most people who wake up early and find themselves being used as an experiment normally panic. It’s a common phobia.” He tells you, his voice dry with amusement.  
“What are you doing?” You ask.  
“CAT scan. We X-rayed you earlier.”  
“So no torture then?”  
“Not yet.”  
“I’m cool with this.” You shrug again. “Can I see the results?”   
Herr Strucker looks confused for a minute and you worry you’re being too casual. Maybe you should show him a bit of fear, boost his ego a bit. But, if you’re honest, you’re too emotionally drained to really care right now. 

“I don’t see why not.” He agrees eventually. “You might have a different insight into what the God-King did to you. We’ll have everything collated in the morning, you can see it all then.”   
“I didn’t know about the collar.”  
“So I understand. How did he get it on?”  
“The normal way. It must have burrowed in after.” You can’t help the shudder which runs through you.  
“Some sort of skin contact activation?” Herr Strucker says to himself. “Very interesting.”   
The scientist next to you makes some notes on their clip board.  
“So any more tests?”   
“A few blood and skin samples and then back to your cell.”  
“Does it have to be that cell?”  
“You are a prisoner, are you not?”  
“Yes. I guess…”  
“Then you must go back to the cell.”  
“Fine.” You sigh. “I’ll do what you want.”  
“Very good.”

You allow them to take the blood tests and cell samples from several different points on your body. You open your mouth obediently when they want a cheek swab and generally play the good prisoner. You go back to your cell without complaint and climb back on your bed. It could be drier though and it’s no where near as comfy as your square of carpet. But it’s better than the slats on the plane, so on balance, you’re doing okay.   
You guess you should be scared, this is only the warm up stuff. Once they know what they’re dealing with the torture and bad things will start to happen. But you’re not scared, compared to what you’ve been through this is like a dark, damp, sticky holiday. No matter what they do it can’t be worse than living with someone who could take your whole being away with a few words and a complex hand gesture. You don’t owe Herr Strucker anything, you’re not bound to him by threats and magic. So long as you sound convincing he can’t prove anything either way. You sigh and stretch out on the straw. You might as well get as much sleep as you can now, it’s one of the first things they deprive once the torture starts. You’ve seen the movies, you know the deal. You turn over with your back to the wall and you drift into an uneasy sleep.

*

It’s night and you’re sitting at the throne in the Empire State Building. In front of you forty children shiver and tremble on their knees about ten feet from the steps leading to your seat. There are no HYDRA soldiers in the room but many adults, wearing swords and carrying guns, stand to attention along the walls and guard the lift. All their eyes glitter with blue frost.  
“Good evening, child.” The God-King’s voice is warm and welcoming.  
“Majesty? But I was asleep.” You’re confused and uncertain. Your mind still feels heavy, like you’ve only just woken up.  
“You are asleep in your cell, yes.” The God-King agrees.  
“So am I dreaming?” You ask.  
“No. You’re not.”  
“Okay.” You pull back and try to make sense of the situation.  
“I’m in your head?” You venture. “Seeing through your eyes?”  
“Very good, child.”  
“And these are…”  
“The candidates for your replacement. I thought you’d like to see.”  
“Oh.” You ponder this for a while and then try to find the route back to your own head. You’re not going to leave but you need the comforting feel of escape. It isn’t there. The God-King feels you looking and he shakes his head. It’s a really strange sensation and for a moment you feel queasy.  
“When this is over, I will let you go. But not before.”  
“What happens to my body if I’m not there?”  
“It’s sleeping, no one is coming to see you. No one is that interested. But I am watching over you, you will return unharmed.”  
“Okay. Thank you, Majesty.” You realise both of you are speaking in his head, his words are not coming out of his mouth or vibrating in his throat. As far as the children are concerned he’s sitting there with an impassive expression on his face, watching them without any emotion.

“Why don’t you just do it to all of them? They’re scared enough to deal and one of us will survive to do what you need us to do.”   
“Do you know how much power it takes to have just one child? If I killed you, I could take three of these, possibly four under my wing. But they would be dull things compared to you. You take up a lot of my time and energy because of your talent. I can’t really afford even one while you live. But it is a burden I am willing to risk.”  
“Thank you, Majesty.” It’s all you can think to say. “I didn’t realise I was a burden.”   
“Oh, hush.” He reaches out and caresses your mind. “I have no time for your foolishness tonight. You will help me choose. After all, you always wanted a sibling.”   
You’re struck dumb by this and he laughs at your sudden silence.   
“Lost for words? Now there’s a turn up for the books. When I choose your replacement you will be bound to them as well, the magic will connect us all together. You’re strong enough now that you will be able to reach into their thoughts and speak with them, even from such great a distance. Even if the child I choose is physically older than you, you will be the elder sibling, just because of the power you could wield over them. I expect you to be kind.”  
“Are you going to be kind to them?” You ask and experience a sharp twinge of pain.   
“What do you think?” He asks. “I will do my best to teach them as I have taught you.”   
“Then I hope none of them reach your standards.” You say and the God-King laughs.   
“Are you ready?” He asks.  
“Yes.”   
“Then let us begin.” 

He slams his staff into the floor and two of the adults take the child on the furthest left of the line and brings it to kneel in front of you. The sceptre slams into the marble again and a golden globe of light envelops the throne and the top step to cover both you and the child.   
“No one can hear us speak while this light remains, child. We are alone. No one can help you.” The child, a boy of around thirteen, shivers and cowers at your feet.   
“Tell me, child. If you could have your heart’s desire, what would it be?” The God-King leans forward to listen.   
“I just want to go home, sir. I just want to go and live in my apartment again with mum and dad and my sister Sue.”   
“Is that all? I offer you anything and this is all you want?”   
“It doesn’t have to be the same apartment, sir. Just somewhere with electric and a working toilet.”   
The God-King sighs.  
“I am your God child, your King. My power is vast and far reaching, I could show you wonders you could never dream of. What truly is your heart’s desire?”  
“Please, sir. I just want to go home.” The boy starts to cry. “Please just let me go home.”   
“Your elected representatives spoke highly of you, they said you were one of their brightest children. By coming here and crying at my feet, you are doing them a grave injustice.” The God-King says angrily and the boy just cries harder.   
“Just let him go home.” You say quietly. “He isn’t the one you want.”   
“Very well.” The sceptre strikes again and the golden light fades. The adults come and take the boy away. They look at the God-King in question.   
“He can go back to his Pen.” He says grudgingly. The boy is taken to the right hand side of the room and the next child is brought before the throne.

And so it goes. Each child comes to the throne and is bathed in the golden light which gives them and the God-King complete privacy. He asks each one for their heart’s desire and every one cries and asks for something trivial. Most want to go home, one wants their puppy back, the one they lost in the war. Some are so overcome that they just cry and cry and can’t speak at all, several just wet themselves like frightened animals. You can feel the God-King getting more and more frustrated and you begin to understand how unique you really are. 

At first, if the child spoke they were sent to the right hand side of the room, the group to be sent back to their Pens. The ones who couldn’t speak at all were sent to the left, to be a sacrifice for the Chitauri. By the time he reaches the thirtieth child the God-King is so angry that most of the children are on the Chitauri side, whether they spoke to him or not. 

The thirtieth child is different. She’s been watching the other children with care and when she stands you can see she’s big, really tall and stocky for her age. She’s older too, not really a child but well into her teenage years. She steps forward and looks the God-King in the eye before nodding to him in greeting and getting to her knees. She looks at the ground as the light covers you all and waits to see what will happen.   
“No one can hear us speak while this light remains, child. We are alone. No one can help you.” The God-King says as he has to all the rest. She nods thoughtfully and continues to wait.   
“Tell me, child. If you could have your heart’s desire, what would it be?”   
She looks up at him, bold but frightened. Her hands are shaking and she licks her lips before speaking, indicating a dry mouth.  
“Anything?” She asks.  
“Yes.”   
“I’d like to see another part of the universe.” She says. “Everyone says you’re an alien. I’d like to see if it’s true. I’d like you to take me to an alien world.” Her voice is hard and tough. She’s not American either, her voice is British. But not posh like the God-King’s tone, not as clear. Her vowels are rough and her consonants non-existent.   
“Your accent is strange.” The God-King says. “Where are you from?”  
“Manchester.” She says. “England.”   
“Then why are you here?”   
“My mum has cancer. The bad kind, the stuff you don’t get well from. There was a trial here, a possible cure. We paid through the nose for it and came. And then the war broke out and well...” She shrugs and there’s a pointed silence which she doesn’t bother to fill.

“Is your mother dead?” The God-King asks.  
“Might as well be. She’s in Pen Thirty, waiting to die. No point wasting a bed for a terminal patient at the hospital.”   
“Wouldn’t you want her to live? Wouldn’t that be your heart’s desire?”  
“You can cure brain cancer then?” The girl asks, her tone confrontational. “They say it’s too big to cut out, she’d have no brain left to speak of. There was this nerve therapy they were talking about, could regrow new brain cells and physio to make the connections all work again.”  
“A cure might be possible. Is your mother still coherent?”  
“They say it’s all in the co-ordination parts of her brain. She can still talk and think and read, she’s still my mum. But she can’t hold a glass worth a damn and she can’t walk and she gets these terrible headaches where she just stops breathing and has to be put on a ventilator. Luckily she hasn’t had any of them in New York yet. There’s no electric, so no ventilators.” You expect the girl to cry, but she’s just defiant, like she knows her mother’s dying and there’s nothing to be done. The God-King pauses thoughtfully.  
“I could try. I am good with the mind, I might be able to convince other parts of her brain to take over the commands.”   
“Then try. Yeah. I’d ask for that. That you try.”  
“She might not live.” The God-King says and the girl snorts.   
“Yeah, right. Better than nowt, right?”  
“You’re very practical, very pragmatic about all this.” The God-King says and you can feel he isn’t sure what to make of it.   
“I’ll grieve when she’s dead. Until then…” The girl shrugs. “There’s enough to be getting on with and people dying all the time.” 

“What do you do in my city?” The God-King asks.  
“I work at the hospital as a general helper. I help lift patients, wheel them around, get the drugs from the list every day and sort them for the patients. In return I get a ration of pain killers for mum.”  
“And where is your father in all this?”  
“The medical trial cost so much we could only afford two tickets. He decided that her only daughter should accompany her mum. Get to say goodbye, all that, just in case.”   
“So he’s still in England?”  
“Yeah. And if you cure her, I’d like you to send her back. So they can be together again, he must be worried sick. We haven’t been able to let him know we’re alive or anything.”   
“What about you?”  
“Well I’m guessing there’s a catch to all this. You ain’t called King Loki the Merciful, I’ll have to pay for what you’re offering. And I’m willing if the price is right.”   
“I will own you, body, mind and soul. You will be mine, my property to do with as I wish.”   
“Is this a sex thing?” She asks eyeing him sceptically.  
“It could be, but it’s not important. I have another use for you.” He smiles. “And my own harem.”  
“Well, I’m seventeen in four months’ time and the age of consent in England is sixteen. So you wouldn’t be my first, if you get my drift. If it’s consensual and you want it, then okay. But I ain’t gonna just bend over, okay? You have to give to receive.”  
“Sounds like far too much work.” The God-King actually laughs. “But I respect your answers. I think you’re the one I’m looking for.”   
“I think so too.” You agree and he strokes your mind again, filling you with sensations of pleasure. He’s never done that before and you don’t know if you like it or not. Pain sure, you can handle it, pleasure is just strange. Pain is inflicted, pleasure is something far more personal. You don’t like receiving it in such an artificial way, it’s too intrusive.   
“You’re such a whiner.” The God-King chides and you smile.  
“Sorry, Majesty.”

“What’s your name, child?” He asks, returning to the physical world.  
“Laura Abbot.” She answers promptly.  
“Well, take my hand, Laura and our agreement will be binding.” He offers his hand and she looks at it and then back up at him.  
“And then what happens?” She asks uncertainly.   
“You do what I need you to do.”   
“And the other kids?”  
“Some will go home, others will not.”   
Laura looks at him sceptically.   
“No.” She says. “They all go home, or no deal.”  
“I can’t do that. I have promised a tithe of a tenth of these children to go to the Chitauri.”  
“A tenth?” Laura turns to look at both sides of the room. “There’s more than four on each side.”  
You’re impressed she did the maths so quickly. The God-King is as well.   
“The ones on the left go to the Chitauri.” He tells her.  
“No. You promised four and that’s fine. You’re a king, you have to keep your word. But the rest go home.”   
“What do you propose?”   
“Well there’s twenty over there now. Give me twenty sticks, sixteen long, four short. I’ll go over and get them to pull them from my hand. The short straws stay and the rest go home. That makes it fair. Then I’ll shake your hand and agree to the deal.”  
“Very well. A trip to an alien world and a cure for your mother.”  
“And the kids all go home, as does my mum if she’s made well. If she doesn’t, you still send a message back to my dad, letting him know what happened and that I’m alive. It’s only fair. And I’ll agree to consensual sex, if that’s what you want from me. I don’t normally go for posh boys, but for you I’ll make an exception.”   
“Agreed.” The God-King says. “Even though I’m not sure whether to be insulted or not.” But his tone is amused and you know he isn’t going to punish her, not tonight. 

The God-King gestures and twenty sticks appear on the marble floor of the agreed lengths. Laura takes them and waits for the golden light to fade around the throne. Then she goes to the kids on the left. She talks to them and they each take a stick. Those with a long stick get to walk to the right hand side of the wall, as do all the kids still in line waiting their turn with the God-King. The final four start to cry as the adults take them to the lift alone. Laura watches with a grim expression and once they’re gone she ascends the throne. She spits on her palm and offers it.   
“Your other hand please. No spit this time.” The God-King says, utterly disgusted.   
Laura grins, offers her other hand instead and you know she did it just to see his reaction. The God-King takes it and within moments her expression fades and she starts to scream as the blue light begins to burn into her palm. You start to scream too, the pain is viscerally real.   
“And so it is witnessed.” The God-King says quietly.

*

You wake up in your cell howling in agony. Your hand is a bright blue and the circle is burning like a brand. As you watch your burn marks move and shift and grow. They don’t stop until your entire hand is covered with the thin black twisting marks, both on the front and the back and curling up all your fingers and thumb to the tip. It wraps around your wrist in a curved, interwoven bracelet that covers the two nubs of bone on either side, but goes no further. You look like you’re wearing a small, intricately patterned black lace glove.  
“What’s going on in there? What’s that racket?” There are boots running up to your cell. Your hand in still burning, it never hurt this much before and you’re panting in pain as they open the door. Two HYDRA soldiers stand in the doorway watching you with guns in their hands and the prison guard walks in with a truncheon. He takes one look at your hand and backs off a few steps.  
“What’s happened?” He demands.  
“The God-King hurt Laura…” Is all you can think to say in return. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how to tag the whole 'internal wiring thing'. I mean it's creepy and freaks me out just thinking about it, but I don't know tags well enough to explain without spoiling the reveal. 
> 
> Any advice would be appreciated. 
> 
> Any any other comments at all, of course. :)


	22. Accidental Sorcery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You have no fear of us.” Herr Strucker says as you walk.  
> “That’s not true. I just… I mean the light and the interrogation? It’s a bit old-fashioned, don’t you think?”  
> “Old, but tried and tested. Most people crack in less than an hour. Four hours later and you’re still evading and keeping consistency with your answers. You are an interesting specimen.”  
> “Thanks, I think.” It occurs to you that in your whole time here, no one has asked what you name is and they all have this annoying habit of calling you ‘It’. You are just an ‘interesting specimen’, something to be tested and worked out, not human at all. If the God-King hadn’t already ripped your name away and got you used to the idea, it would be humiliating for HYDRA to treat you like this. But because of past experience you just accepted it and got on with things. And that was the nub of the problem. HYDRA could do tons of horrible and humiliating stuff to you, but compared to what the God-King had already done to you? It was children playing at gods. You just couldn’t take them seriously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where the kid learns some pretty severe life lessons and is reunited with Black Widow.
> 
> That's it really. Six thousand words condensed into a single sentence. :)
> 
> This story is coming really quickly at the moment, I've really hit a creative vein and can't stop typing. So there should be a few more updates in the next few days. And I've hit the hundred thousand word mark, so yay for a benchmark. 
> 
> Read and enjoy.

*

“So who’s Laura?”  
“She’s my sister.” You squint into the light and try to keep calm, but you’re tired and strung out and haven’t rested since the God-King changed the burn mark on your hand.  
“But you said you were an only child.”  
“My spiritual sister. She’s like me, she has a mark like me.” You raise your hand for what feels like the hundredth time. You’ve already explained this. You wish they’d just stop.  
“And how does this connection work?”  
“We’re connected, because… Look it’s just magic okay? I don’t understand it. I already told you I don’t understand it. What does it matter?”  
“Just stick to answering the questions.”  
“Sure.” You sigh in frustration.  
“So there are more children in New York with the same mark as you?”  
“Just me and Laura.”  
“Why?”  
“Because he needs two of us.”  
“Why?”  
“I don’t know why.” You hate this. You hate the stupid white light, you hate not being able to see them and you hate the way they’re treating you. It’s dumb, you’re not going to tell them anything and they should realise that by now. Because if you tell them anything then it’s not just you on the chopping block anymore. Laura’s bright and tough and sassy and the first time you heard her scream it broke your heart. At least the God-King can’t take away her name, you can always give it back.  
“So why is your burn mark bigger? Why did it expand?”  
“Because when he hurt Laura it hurt me as well. He’s done something to her, something to her mark and it’s done something to me as well. I don’t know. I don’t know! I’m half a fucking world away, how could I know?” You’re almost crying with frustration. Your hand is sore and you just want this to stop. It’s been hours now and there been no respite, no food or water. The light is bright and hot and your voice is starting to rasp under the strain of the constant questions. And worse, your connection to the God-King is gone, completely gone. He’s cut you off and you’re half scared he’s decided he doesn’t need you anymore.

“Why did you not mention her until now?”  
“Because it didn’t seem important, she’s still there, with him. It doesn’t matter, you can’t get to her, you can’t save her. So I didn’t bother to talk about it.”  
“But our reports say there is only one child at the Empire State. This Laura has never been mentioned before.”  
“So it’s my fault that your intelligence sucks?” You snap angrily. “She’s treated differently to me.”  
“Why?”  
“I don’t know why. He doesn’t bother explaining himself to me. Why would he? I mean do you bother explaining what you plan to do to me? In advance? No. You just drag me out of my cell and chain me to a chair and ask dumb stupid questions for hours on end.”  
“So you were his prisoner.”  
“Of course I was his… Shit you think I wanted to be there? In in house, at his mercy? Do you have any idea how little he understands about humans, how many times he almost killed me by accident? Of course I never mentioned my sister to you. If I did and he found out he’d hurt her to get to me.”  
“What is Tony Stark doing in the Empire State Building?”  
And here we go again, just changing the line of questioning suddenly, trying to get you confused and muddled up.  
“Mr Stark is the God-King’s prisoner.”  
“But he’s making him work on a project.”  
“Possibly. If so, I don’t know what it is.”  
“But you accompanied him to Stark Tower.”  
“Just so the God-King could use me against Mr Stark. Kids in pain are a good motivator. It’s how the God-King used me the most. He’d hurt me to get other people to do what he wanted. Mr Stark wanted some stuff from Stark Tower and the God-King took me to make sure he co-operated.”  
“What ‘stuff’”  
“I don’t know. I don’t understand computers or electronics. I don’t know what project Mr Stark is working on, or if he is working on one at all. I don’t know if the God-King let him keep the stuff he took or if it was just a trick. He does that, promises you stuff and then takes it away. The God-King Loki is not a very nice person.” You slam your fists into the arm rests. “He’s tortured Mr Stark, he’s tortured me and he’s tortured my sister. He’d torture you too if he had you at his mercy. Be thankful he fucking needs you for his war.” The interrogators go silent for a minute and you soak up the respite and wait for the next attack of questioning.

“Where does your sister sleep?” Okay, so this again. Try to make you give more specific answers, trying to trip you up. You were ready for this, denial of knowledge is the best way around it.  
“I don’t know where she sleeps.” You say firmly. You know you’re on shifting sand by pretending Laura’s been around longer than one night. They’re bound to get intelligence and have it bite you in the ass later on. But you know if you told them the truth you would have to admit lying about the God-King’s reach and his power over you and it would just make things worse. So you deflect their answers as best as you can. Pretend it’s always been this way and that she’s always been around. It makes you feel good to pretend HYDRA are stupid.  
“But aren’t you close, aren’t you connected?” The questioner sounds like they don’t believe you.  
Fuck them, let’s spin this out. You’ve committed to this course and you aren’t going to back-pedal now.  
“I sleep outside the God-King’s room every night on the carpet. Laura gets taken away every night, I don’t know where, she’s not allowed to tell me.”  
“And she never broke her orders?”  
“Are you kidding me? You’ve no idea what he’d do…”  
“What would he do?”  
“I don’t know.” You say quietly. “That’s what makes it so frightening. He’s not consistent. But it would be terrible, he has a lot of imagination.”  
“That’s enough.” Herr Strucker’s voice comes into the room through an intercom. “I have seen all I need.” He walks in from a side door and looks you up and down. “I think we should try a different approach.” He gestures and one of the guards unchains you from the chair. “Come with me, child.”  
You shrug, stand and follow him out of the door. 

“You have no fear of us.” Herr Strucker says as you walk.  
“That’s not true. I just… I mean the light and the interrogation? It’s a bit old-fashioned, don’t you think?”  
“Old, but tried and tested. Most people crack in less than an hour. Four hours later and you’re still evading and keeping consistency with your answers. You are an interesting specimen.”  
“Thanks, I think.” It occurs to you that in your whole time here, no one has asked what you name is and they all have this annoying habit of calling you ‘It’. You are just an ‘interesting specimen’, something to be tested and worked out, not human at all. If the God-King hadn’t already ripped your name away and got you used to the idea, it would be humiliating for HYDRA to treat you like this. But because of past experience you just accepted it and got on with things. And that was the nub of the problem. HYDRA could do tons of horrible and humiliating stuff to you, but compared to what the God-King had already done to you? It was children playing at gods. You just couldn’t take them seriously. And conversely, this was what seemed to be keeping you alive. They couldn’t work you out. So they would keep you around until they did. 

“We have had other inmates resistant to our techniques. You are not the first. I think I will show you what we did with them, it might make you more compliant.” Herr Strucker smiles his arrogant smile. “Yes. I will show you one you know quite well.”  
You’re taken up six flights of stairs until you’re above ground again and there are windows rather than artificial light. You’ve been interrogated for hours and it’s morning outside. Early morning, but even so, you’ve been holding out for longer than four hours, for sure. No wonder you’re so tired and thirsty. You go across a corridor and go up another five flights. This place is crazy big, if not as tall as the Empire State. The floor you end up on is much nicer than the rest with oil burners held in sconces along the wall, unlit at this time of day, and a thin red carpet on the floor, edged with gold. There are even a few alcoves with table and plants in them, chosen because they thrive in weak sunlight. So more green than flowers, but nice all the same.  
Herr Strucker stops at one of the carved wooden doors, it’s big, thick and varnished to look like dark wood. He knocks on it politely.  
“Come.” A voice calls from inside and Herr Strucker turns the circular door knob and walks in. 

Black Widow is sat at a desk, reading a report from a thick lever-arch file and your heart starts beating rapidly.  
“I have a guest for you Natasha.” Herr Strucker says and she turns to look at you.  
She’s dressed as she was during the Battle for New York, in a tight leather trouser suit with good, comfortable flat boots. But her movements are wrong, a little too jerky, too hesitant, as if she’s fighting herself. Her hair is cut shorter as well, in an almost a boyish style, but it looks good on her, harsh but sexy. But her eyes, oh god her eyes, they don’t belong to her at all. They hold no emotion and glow a dark, menacing red. It’s like she’s been taken by the sceptre, but instead of freezing her heart it’s burned her up instead. Those eyes flicker with a strange controlling flame.  
“So you see. We too can play with you mind.” Herr Strucker smiles at you.  
Okay, don’t freak out, think about this. No, wait, do freak out. It’s what he wants.  
“Black Widow?” You ask. You voice timid and strained and you widen your eyes in horror. She looks at you and she knows you’re acting – she’s seen through you in an instant. But she smiles anyway.  
“That was my SHIELD designation. Here, I’m Natasha until they need me for field operations again.”  
“And then we will chose something more suitable for HYDRA.” Herr Stucker says more to her than you and she nods in agreement.  
“Something less sexist, perhaps?” She asks and Herr Strucker laughs.  
“Whatever you like, my dear.” He says at his misogynist best.

Natasha gets up and walks over. Her walk is all in the hips, soft and seductive. But again you’ve seen how she walks normally and this isn’t her at all.  
“The kid being difficult?” She asks and looks you up and down like you’re nothing to her. Her red eyes are horrible.  
“Always so perceptive.” Herr Strucker purrs. Shit he likes her, he wants to, ugh. Adults. And she knows and she’s leading him along and, mind control or not, he doesn’t stand a chance with her.  
“And you want me to keep an eye on them, find out what makes them tick and make sure Loki doesn’t get in touch.”  
“Precisely.”  
“It’s doable.” She says.  
“You’ll sleep on the floor under her desk and do everything she tells you to.” Herr Strucker informs you and you nod to him and Natasha.  
“Whatever you want.” You say to them both. Natasha smiles and you know she’s going to put you through hell.  
“We’ll call you back in the evening. We have some questions we need the child to answer. But until then.” Herr Strucker bows formally. “I will leave you to get to know each other.”

When he leaves Natasha goes back to her chair, sits down and continues reading. You stand there with your hands behind your back and don’t know what to do.  
“Sit.” She says and you look around. The room is pretty, but small. Apart from her bed, the only seat is the one at the desk.  
“Uhm…”  
“On the floor, here.” She points down by her side. You walk forward and sit down obediently on the hard stone floor. There’s a rug at the door and one near her bed so she doesn’t have to step on the cold slabs in the morning, but nothing else. It’s going to be freezing and uncomfortable sleeping under her desk and there isn’t much room, you’re going to have to curl up really tight. The prison clothes are thin and the cold leaches into them the second you sit down.  
“So.” She says, her eyes not moving from the report she’s reading. “I hear you’re not playing ball.”  
“Uhm…” You don’t know what to say. You weren’t ready for this and you’re completely thrown.  
“Let’s start from the beginning, shall we? Where we left off.”  
“How much have you told them?” You ask.  
“Everything.” She says.  
“Oh, so they know about the mark and the deal and…”  
“Yes.”  
“Oh.” You shift uncomfortably. “I was trying to keep that a secret.”  
“Why?”  
“To protect you.” You tell her.  
“Really?” She looks down at you and shakes her head. “I don’t need your help.”  
“No, I guess not.” You lick your lips, your mouth is really dry and your throat hurts from the interrogation and from when the guard yanked at your wiring. You could use a drink, but you don’t want to ask. 

“So what did they do to you?” You ask. “Some sort of prototype sceptre of their own?”  
“You’ll find out soon enough.”  
“Right.” You cough and she looks at you irritated.  
“They haven’t given you anything to drink have they?” She asks.  
“No.”  
She swears in Russian gets up and takes a pitcher of water from where it’s cooling on the window ledge, next to several bottles of vodka. She pours you a glass and gives it to you.  
“How am I meant to interrogate you if you haven’t had a drink in six hours?” She mutters angrily. “Amateurs.”  
“Herr Strucker said it was four.”  
“Strucker holds back information for irrelevant reasons.” She says in return. “Because it makes him feel big and powerful to lie about little things.”  
“You don’t like him?”  
“No. But I have to work for him.” The red in her eyes flickers and fades. “This mind control isn’t as good as the sceptre, it isn’t as refined, she hasn’t worked it out properly.”  
“She?”  
“She.”  
“Okay.” No more information there. The red slowly starts to come back.  
“And I don’t have to like him to do what he says.” She says as she sits down again and goes back to her file. For a long while she ignores you and the silence drags out. 

So you concentrate, like the God-King taught you, listening to your heartbeat and once you feel centred, reaching out to feel the world around you. You can taste the magic around Natasha, thick and red. Sweet almost. Like treacle. It’s bound around her, a straightjacket of sorts, holding her into the position and mind set they want. It’s nothing like the sceptre, which binds internally rather than around the victim. It crawls inside your head and freezes parts of you out. The sceptre’s more like a virus than a set of ropes, moving into your cells and making itself at home. You’ve been around it enough to know what it feels like, what it tastes like and this, this isn’t anywhere near its power and depth of control.

You can also feel the bond between you and her as a soft, golden gossamer line, threaded through both of you, tangling you together. Compared to the red goo it’s beautiful, artistic and understated and yet completely unbreakable. Drawn with the brush of a genius. Through the skein of the thread you can see the discrepancies in the red mind control, where the gaps are which should be filled, where it’s too heavily laid in the wrong place, where you could reach in and shift it out… Whoever did it was powerful, but completely inexperienced, like they were figuring it out from scratch. You reach out to touch Natasha’s wrist and, as you expect, her excellent reflexes mean she catches you before you make contact. Her grip is hard and crushing and you allow a small whimper escape from your throat to make her relax a little.  
“What are you doing?” She asks.  
“This.” And before she can react you lift your other hand and press the gold circle against the main arteries in her wrist, now exposed by the way she grabbed you. The rush is unbelievable, the bond shivers with the contact and you’re in her head almost instantly. 

You feel her trying to hold you off but the goo slows her down and she doesn’t know what you’re doing. And she’s not gifted – her mind is sharp and hard and cunning, but she has no magic to back it up. You’re used to fighting with someone who can hold your entire being in the palm of their hand and squeeze. Natasha doesn’t stand a chance. You quickly gain the edge, using your knowledge of the connecting thread to tangle her thoughts and trap her in its binding. And the red is everywhere, constraining her and confusing her with contradictory instructions. If her mind had been clear the fight would have been harder, but someone’s spent most of a month screwing with her head and she can’t fight that and you at the same time. You tie her up and hold her down and wait for her to realise she’s lost.

It doesn’t take long. She stops fighting a short while later and sits there watching you, waiting. She isn’t scared or angry, just patient, she knows you aren’t going to hurt her. But she also knows you have her cold. It’s like when she was held down by the Chitauri – Hawkeye had struggled and cursed, but she’d relaxed, gone still and waited for her opening.  
“So?” She asks softly.  
“I’m going to help you.” You say. “Just sit back and let me do it. It won’t hurt I promise.”  
“Don’t.” She says.  
“I can do this, I can free you.”  
“I don’t want to be freed.” She tells you impatiently.  
“Why not?” You ask. “Why wouldn’t you? This has got to be killing you inside.”  
“Think about it. If you let me go, then we’ll both be taken back to the cells. Strucker has me under his control now, but it’s imperfect, I can still fight it. She’s not as good as she thinks she is.”  
You burrow in and get the name: Scarlet Witch.  
“Ow. Don’t do that.”  
“Sorry, I had to know.” You pull away again feeling like an ass for being so invasive.  
“So now, you know. Let me go.”  
“No.” You tell her. “I can’t. I can’t leave you to hurt me, I can’t leave you to follow Herr Strucker’s commands. I’m not going to get my ass kicked by a friend who’s under mind control.”  
“Then we’re both in trouble.”  
“No. We’re not.” You sit back and think about it. “Maybe there’s a solution. Just give me a minute.” 

She sits patiently while you tug experimentally at the thread and touch the goo in several places and start to formulate an idea.  
“Okay. I can use our bond to tie up the red in here. It won’t go away, but it won’t impede you either. You can choose whether to follow its commands or not and you can turn it off completely if you want to.”  
“But won’t she know that you’ve tampered with it?”  
“Uhm… Maybe.” You sit back and think. “How does it feel when she enters your mind? Show me.”  
“I don’t know how to show you.”  
“Okay, I’m going to show you one of my memories of the God-King in my head. So you can feel what’s me and what’s him and maybe you can work out how it is with you and her.”  
“I don’t see how…” But you can feel her sorting it out. She’s intrigued by your idea and trying to make sense of it.  
“Yes you do. You’ve got the strongest mind I’ve ever seen – well bar one.”  
“Loki.”  
“Right. And you don’t have magic and I do, so I’ve got the advantage here, sorry.”  
“You have magic?”  
“Yeah, uhm. Long story. Let’s get this sorted out first, okay?”  
“Okay.” And you can feel her focus on the task at hand. “Show me.” 

You show her the first time, when you’re having a panic attack and he goes into your head and starts calming you down in stages. It’s the least invasive memory you have and you don’t want to completely overwhelm her showing her some of the other times.  
“Okay, so he was there and you were here…” She says thoughtfully. “I think I know what you mean.”  
Natasha opens one of her thoughts and you go in and begin to read it. Scarlet Witch is young and you’re surprised because she’s so powerful. But she’s only a few years older than you are and nowhere near as experienced. You’ve been through the God-King’s boot camp, centuries of knowledge unleashed inside your head and used against you. So you can see exactly where she goes wrong. It’s like getting your ass kicked by Bruce Lee, where he takes you apart systematically for the best part of a month and then you get attacked by a yellow belt who has the same amount of talent, but no where near the experience. Given a few centuries she’ll be as good as the God-King, but right now, she’s vulnerable, the God-King would crunch her up and spit out the pieces.  
“Okay.” You say nodding to yourself. “I can do this.” 

Scarlet Witch enters from a single point in the memory and you can tell when you touch that part of Natasha’s mind that she always comes in from here. She’s never bothered to find another weak point after this first one. Natasha hisses in pain, the constant attacks there have left it tender.  
“Sorry.” You apologise contritely at you lack of fore-thought.  
“Don’t be. Can you do this or not?”  
“I’m pretty sure I can.” You follow the Scarlet Witch’s progression through Natasha’s mind and realise that she doesn’t pierce it at all, she’s always in the periphery, looking in, covering the parts she doesn’t want, but never invading the space properly. When she wants to read a thought she doesn’t take it and unspool it like the God-King does, she just kind of engulfs it and tried to overwhelm Natasha’s defences. It’s sloppy and you know she’s only got partial intelligence from Natasha’s head. Black Widow has held her off very well for someone with no magical ability. And Scarlet Witch doesn’t see the gold at all, she just steps into it and get confused when she can’t go any further forward or trips over it. It’s like the God-King has hidden it from invaders and she can’t work it out, even when she interacts with it. She thinks it’s an extra defence Natasha’s thought up, one she can’t see or get to grips with. She doesn’t know someone has already been in Black Widow’s head. So that makes things easier for you. 

“Right. This might hurt and it’s going to take a while, so apologies in advance. But we’ll have the edge over HYDRA once this is over and done with. And we’re both going to be pretty fatigued once I’ve finished. I’d like your permission before I start.” You’re still going to go ahead, but it’s only polite to ask.  
“Do it.” Natasha says.  
You leave the entrance point exactly like it is, no tampering at all. But you reinforce the rest of Natasha’s mind, strengthening the shields and her natural mind-blocks against any further assault. You take the memories where Scarlet Witch has engulfed her and tie them neatly with the thread so they can be pulled back at will and replaced as needed. You show Natasha how to do this. Then you go to the parts of her brain where her control has been immobilised and you stop. After pulling back only a fraction of the goo from the affected area, Natasha’s starts groaning from the pain. It’s very bad, you’d be screaming. It’s like she’s been treated with acid, the normal skin of the mind has been abraded away and the control centres are slowly being eroded. Left alone they would have been destroyed, parts of Natasha taken away forever and you’re angry. Whether by accident or design, it just isn’t on to do that to anyone. At least the God-King had the decency to make it quick, a single savage assault with time to heal afterwards. This was just cruel. 

You sit back again and try to work out what to do. It’s a difficult one to think about, the God-King is rarely kind so you don’t have a clear frame of reference. But surely it’s just a case of using your imagination, didn’t the God-King say you were instinctively compassionate, that you knew when to stop? Like when you messed with Mr Stark’s emotions?  
“I’m going to need a bit of your blood.” You tell Natasha and you can tell she thinks you’re mad.  
“Why?”  
“I need to get this right and it’ll help me concentrate.”  
You feel her in the real world reaching under her desk and pulling a knife out of a sheathe underneath it. There’s a pair of guns as well. Wow, she’s prepared.  
“What were you going to do when I slept under there?” You ask.  
She just smiles.  
“I was going to move them.”  
Right. Stupid question.  
“So what do you want me to do?” She asks holding the knife loosely in one hand.  
“Just prick your finger and put it in my mouth.”  
“What?”  
“I know, it’s creepy and kinky, but trust me okay?”  
“You learnt this from Loki, didn’t you?”  
“Uh-huh.”  
“Fine.”  
You feel the stab of pain and then feel her blood on your tongue.  
“This is weird, don’t make me regret it.” She says as she removes her finger.  
“I won’t. I promise.”  
“Huh.” 

You let the blood sit on your tongue.  
“Feel the properties in the taste, feel the life you have just consumed.” You mutter to yourself.  
“Don’t tell me you just said that.” Natasha sounds disgusted.  
“I’m trying to concentrate.” You snap at her. “It’s what the God-King said the first time.”  
“This is just… Nevermind. Do what you need to.” And she goes quiet again. She trusts you, for a given level of trust, and she’s willing to see what you do with it. It’s not like she has any choice right now, all the way through you’ve been careful to keep her mind trapped. You don’t want her turning on you mid-fix. And she can’t attack you physically either, she knows any attempt would end with her losing bits of her mind to you and she can’t risk it. You’ve got the upper hand, but it’s more of a stalemate position. If you push her too hard, she might decide to take the risk after all and knock you out. It’s a complicated relationship. 

You let the flavours mingle in your thoughts and then you reach down into Natasha’s emotions.  
“Okay, this will be weird as well, but just go with it.”  
You wait for her agreement before you push deeper. You feel her almost bottomless well of patience and calm, you’ve never known anything like it. She could literally outstare a snake, her level of commitment and self-control is astounding. You take some of it and imagine it blue, soft and cool and mix it with your own feelings of love and compassion towards her. You feel her gasp and she tries to pull away from such raw feelings, feelings she rarely allows to come forward and she inadvertently shows you how much she cares for Hawkeye. It isn’t love, but a deep, mutual trust and friendship built from years of working together. A military love, a warrior’s love, knowing each other’s strengths and weaknesses, knowing where the other hurts. But there’s no lust, no sexual desire. You never knew anyone could feel like that for another person, it’s something denied by every movie, every conversation about those types of feelings on the playground. But there it is and you can use it. This is Natasha in her truest form. So you take a little, mix it together with everything else and you use it as a salve to soothe away the acid burning into her being. The red starts to come away easily after that and you bind it with the gold thread and cover the lower side with the blue so it never touches her ever again. It takes a long time to finish and the level of concentration is tremendous – you can feel your body trembling with the effort. Afterward you show her how to remove it and put it back and you move to the next part of her which needs to be healed. 

Hours later you finally slip out of her mind and your hands fall weakly to your side. You’ve never been so tired, bone tired and soul tired. You hear the chair squeaking backwards on the stone and Natasha picks you up in her arms.  
“You’re so light.” She murmurs. “There’s nothing to you at all.”  
“I could do with a cheese burger.” You say, delirious with exhaustion and she laughs.  
“They’ll be a meal for you when you wake up.”  
“Aren’t you tired too?”  
“Sure, I’ll nap in the chair. I’m used to it.” She puts you in the bed, pulls off your shoes and sits on the edge as she takes your hand in hers. “Thank you.”  
“Hey, I’m as strong as marble.” You grin. “If you hadn’t told me that, I wouldn’t have made it through the day. Your advice helped me through the worst of it and then I found I could cope. I hate him, I don’t like it, but I can cope.” You squeeze her hand. “You saved me. You really did.”  
She smiles fleetingly and rubs your hand as if trying to get some warmth back into it.  
“You’re freezing.”  
“I’m okay.”  
“You pushed yourself too hard.” And she’s back with the school teacher voice but you just laugh.  
“I’m okay.”  
She pulls the blanket around you tightly and tucks you in. Then she kisses you gently on the forehead.  
“Gets some sleep.”  
“Sure, mum.” You say yawning. She gets up and you hear the chair squeak again as she sits down and scoots closer to the desk. “Hey, mum?”  
“Yes?”  
“What’s my name? I can’t remember.” You struggle for a moment in the covers, they’re not like your duvet at home and you don’t like them. “I can’t remember my name. He took it from me.”  
She’s quiet for a long time and you’re suddenly scared she’s had it taken away as well.  
“Get some sleep. We’ll talk about it after you’ve rested.” She says finally.  
“But you’ll tell me then?” You press her.  
“We’ll talk about it then, yes.” She reassures you and you sigh happily.  
“Okay. And you’ll cook dinner?”  
“I’ll cook dinner.” She agrees.  
“Yay. Thanks, mum. I love you.”  
Again there’s a long pause.  
“I love you, too.”  
You sigh happily, rest you head deeply into the pillow and slide into sleep.

*

“What have you done?” The voice is angry and chiding.  
“What…? Who…?”  
“Don’t be an idiot.”  
“Majesty…?”  
“What have you done?” He repeats.  
“I… I helped…?”  
“You’re almost dead. You stupid, thoughtless, idiotic…” You feel him reaching inside of you and you’re too tired to resist. “…Pathetic excuse for an amateur magician.”  
“Wait, what?”  
“Of course your first solo attempt at real magic has to be some grand gesture. Don’t you understand you deplete your own life force when you cast magic?”  
“I… I didn’t…?” You say. “It wasn’t magic.”  
“Of course it was magic. What did you think you were doing? Science?”  
“No but… I was just working out…” You cry out as he closes around something deep inside of you. “No, no, no… Don’t… Don’t hurt me…” You’re suddenly terrified. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry….”  
“Stop babbling. I’m helping you. But it is going to hurt, because you barely have anything left at all. How your heart is still beating I have no inkling.” He’s furious and you cower from him.  
“Oh stop it, just stop. Your fear is making this harder, you’re burning up what little strength you have left.”  
“I can’t…”  
“Stop.” He commands and twists you hard and suddenly you can’t feel anything at all. You’re floating helplessly in a void without thought or reason.  
“Now, let’s get you sorted out.”

You don’t know how long he makes you scream, but the pain is constant and absolute. Like pins and needles through your entire body and brain. You’re dimly aware that someone is shaking you.  
“Kid? Kid. Shit, wake up.”  
“Damn it. That stupid whore.” He lashes out and you feel Natasha go limp by your bed.  
“No. Stop hurting her.” You shout and he twists you again. You’re dizzy and completely helpless, caught against him as he reaches inside to continue his work.  
“Mercy, Majesty. Mercy, please.”  
“I am showing you mercy. I could just let you die. Is that what you want? To feel yourself slip away piece by piece into a void of your own making?”  
“I don’t understand.”  
“Of course you don’t. You have no formal training. I haven’t had the time and I didn’t realise you were ready to learn.” He pauses sighing.  
“But for a first spell, it’s good work.” He concedes. “I‘m impressed.”  
“I saved her.”  
“You did. Now let me save you.”  
“Can I trust you?” You ask, knowing you don’t really have a choice, but needing the reassurance. He pauses again before continuing. He work is slower now, more methodical and doesn’t hurt so much.  
“At this moment in time, yes, you can trust me. But only because I want to save your life.”  
“I’ll do what you say.”  
“Very good. Just stay out of my way.”  
“I can do that. But don’t call her a whore ever again.”  
“What?” He asks distractedly.  
“It’s disrespectful.” You tell him and he stops again.  
“I’m preventing you dying by degrees and this is what you’re concerned about?” He asks.  
“She’s my friend and one of the most honourable people I know. She’s not a whore.”  
“Very well, if that’s your dying wish. I’ll abide by it.”  
“Am I dying?”  
“Not anymore.” He sighs. “Such a stupid child.” 

You let him work without any other distractions. You don’t know what he’s doing, but you can feel yourself changing. It was like you were frozen, too cold to realise you were numb and about to succumb completely to frostbite and hypothermia. Then someone finds you and starts warming you up again. Of course it was going to hurt, but now it feels good and fuzzy as your body’s core reaches the right temperature again.  
“There, you’re stable. No more magic until you’ve gotten a bit more body density. You’re wasting away as it is. You just don’t have the stamina.”  
“What if the Scarlet Witch attacks me?” You ask.  
“Who?”  
You show him the memory Natasha gave you and he snorts.  
“You won’t have any problems deflecting her. Just no fighting back. Let her think she’s won and then heal the damage afterwards. And take you time, don’t do it all at once. If you’d helped Black Widow after every assault, you’d have barely touch your energy levels, but doing it all at once was stupid.”  
“Well I couldn’t leave it half done. It was a trust issue. And… And what happened if the Scarlet Witch had seen it half-finished and realised?”  
“True enough.” The God-King shakes his head at you. “Next time, ask me to help.”  
“You? No way! I can’t trust you.” You say and he laughs.  
“Maybe you’re not so stupid.” He admits and both of you are quiet for a while.

“Thank you for helping me.” You say, breaking the silence.  
“If you die, who would I have to torture?”  
“Don’t say that.”  
“If I tried to mind-rape Laura like I did you she’d crack in seconds.”  
“How is she?”  
“Settling in. I’m being kind to her for the time being, testing her limits subtly. I learned my lesson from you.”  
“Well that’s surprising.”  
“Not so surprising. I can’t risk killing her. With you I had the luxury of finding a replacement, but now time grows short.”  
“Time for what?”  
“You’ll see.” The God-King smiles. “I want to see if you can work it out for yourself.”  
“So something’s is going to happen in five or six months’ time?” You ask before you can stop yourself.  
“Why do you ask that?” He says.  
“No reason.” You say far too quickly. You clam up and try to put your shields around your mind. He laughs and presses them gently down again, keeping you exposed.  
“If you weren’t so weak I’d cut you to the quick and find your dirty little secret. But it can wait.” He stretches and yawns. “That was a lot of work. I think you’ve actually tired me out.” He caresses your mind. “First though, I must finish.”  
He reaches out to Natasha using the bond between you and her. He makes her stand, walks her to her chair and sits her down comfortably. He wipes her short term memory with a quick and decisive gesture. “There, no need to give her any undue distress.” He eases her into a natural sleep and leaves her to rest.  
“See, you can be nice.”  
“Don’t tempt me to disprove you.”  
“I won’t.”  
“Rest well, child.”  
You reach out to caress his mind like he does to yours but he catches you and sets you back down.  
“No, I think not.” He laughs at your petulance at his denial.  
“You do it to me.”  
“I am your God. I am allowed to belittle you. It doesn’t work both ways.”  
“So unfair.” You grumble.  
“I’m glad you’re well enough to start whining again. But I really must be going.”  
“Thank you, Majesty.”  
“Now go to sleep.”  
“Yes, dad.” You can feel yourself slipping already, but you grin as you feel him grumbling as he leaves your mind. Little victories are the sweetest.  
No doubt he’ll make you pay later, but right now you’re happy.

*

“Kid? Kid, come on wake up. It’s time to get ready to see Strucker.”  
You yawn and stretch and smile up at Black Widow.  
“Will there be dinner?”  
“Most likely.” She smiles. “I just have to change.”  
She concentrates and her eyes flicker from their natural colour to a deep burning red.  
“Are you…?”  
“It’s still me, kid. Just keeping up appearances.”  
“Cool.”  
“And I apologise right now for anything he makes me do to you.”  
“It’s okay, just pull the punches.”  
“I’ll do my best.”  
Suddenly you remember the morning and you’re mortified by what you said.  
“I’m sorry I called you mum.” You say hurriedly.  
“You were delirious. It’s forgivable.” She shakes your shoulder. “Now come on, get up. Time to meet your master.”

You fight your way out of the sheet and feel the rug between your toes. It really is a nice feeling. You wish your shoes were nicer though. They’re still damp and rub when you put them on.  
“Can I get some better clothing as well?” You ask.  
“I’m sure you can negotiate with Strucker for some.”  
Great, negotiation. Earning your clothes and shampoo all over again.  
“Fine.” You agree. “Maybe not today, then.”  
“Probably not.” She agrees.  
You kick yourself out of bed and head for the door.  
“Come on then.” You say, surprised at how lively you feel. The God-King really did a number on you last night. “Let’s get this over with.”  
“Stop.” She orders and you freeze in the act of opening the door. “Stand straight.” You do as she says.  
“Now.” Her voice is speculative. “Hunch your shoulders, lower your head and look at the ground like I’ve given you the dressing down of your life.”  
It’s difficult, but you manage it.  
“Now come here.”  
You slouch over and she slaps you hard across the cheek.  
“Ow, why did you do that?” You ask in hurt surprise. She grabs you under the jaw and looks at it.  
“No, not good enough. Get ready.” And she hits you again. “There, that’s a good bruise. Now you get behind me and act like I’ve beaten the hell out of you.”  
Comprehension dawns.  
“Oh, right, yeah. Sorry. That was real stupid of me wasn’t it?”  
“Just a little.”  
“Sorry.”  
“No need. Just don’t fuck up again.” She smiles to take the sting out of her words. “You ready?”  
You nod and follow her to the door, a picture of dejection and nervousness. She gives you one last look over and nods approvingly.  
“Better, much better.”  
You both head out towards your appointment with Herr Strucker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I don't read the comics, but I'm a big fan of the Marvel films. When I first heard about Natasha the conversation pretty much went along these lines:
> 
> Friend: "So you heard about the new Avenger's movie?"  
> Me: "Yeah it sounds cool."  
> F: "And they're putting in a female superhero to fight alongside the men. She's not a token fighter either, she's really kick ass and independant and strong in her own right."  
> M:" That sounds great. What's she called?"  
> F: "Black Widow!"  
> Me: "Uhm... Kinda sexist, don't you think?"
> 
> And while I love Black Widow (She rates as my favourite Avenger) and I think she's a great female role-model, there's still a part of me that goes: "Black Widow? Really? Way to go with the sexist naming conventions, guys." So I had to put the dig in for a new HYDRA call sign. That is all, rant over.   
> Edit: Oh and sorry for calling her a whore, that wasn't me, that was Loki just being a misogynistic ass-hat. It made me uncomfortable and I almost deleted it - but it fits his character and the kid called him out on it, so he won't be doing it ever again. I guarantee it.
> 
> The twins - So they're in this story, but since it's a few years before Age of Ultron they're still just getting the hang of their powers. They're not as comfortable and confident with them as they are in the movie, which is why the kid can best Scarlet Witch so easily.  
> Just think of them as still in their Beta Testing Phase. ;) 
> 
> Please talk to me people, it's lonely out here in Sokovia...


	23. Test Results

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She guides you through an open door, you take a few steps in and stop dead in surprise. There’s a table with three seats and three plates of steaming food. Chicken breast with potatoes and gravy and all the trimmings and you’re so hungry. But two of the seats are already filled – one contains Herr Strucker and in the other sits the God-King. He’s sat in his casual medieval wear, with his gold necklace and his hair brushed back and he winks at you as you stand there gaping. Natasha goes and sits in the empty seat and you’re left standing like an idiot with your stomach howling at the injustice of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So another short(ish) chapter, but pretty plot heavy. The chapter title is pretty much the summary as well. 
> 
> So, get ready for the science bit...

*

Your appointment with Strucker is apparently in another interrogation cell as Black Widow leads you down the same stairs and along the same corridor toward the basement levels. But you go down past the interrogation section and onto what looks like several sets of offices. Thinking about it, it makes sense the paper work is done in the same place as the torture. The science experiments are probably carried out in the same general area as well. It would be efficient and Herr Strucker strikes you as someone who values efficiency.

As you reach the room the smell of cooking drifts down the hall and you’re so hungry you almost skip forward. But Natasha catches you and shakes her head and you kick yourself for breaking character. With the God-King this kind of stuff just didn’t matter. You could pretend as much as you liked but he’d just go in and get the truth anyway, so there had been no point in play acting. Here it’s the most important thing in the world and you’d better start getting used to it. She waits while you gather yourself again, slump your shoulders, slightly shy away from her and look as dejected and unhappy as you can. She gives you a cuff around the head, you cower slightly and she nods in approval. It didn’t hurt, just another addition to getting you back on the right page. She pushes gently so you’re a few steps ahead of her and you continue to the meeting. 

She guides you through an open door, you take a few steps in and stop dead in surprise. There’s a table with three seats and three plates of steaming food. Chicken breast with potatoes and gravy and all the trimmings and you’re so hungry. But two of the seats are already filled – one contains Herr Strucker and in the other sits the God-King. He’s sat in his casual medieval wear, with his gold necklace and his hair brushed back and he winks at you as you stand there gaping. Natasha goes and sits in the empty seat and you’re left standing like an idiot with your stomach howling at the injustice of it all.  
“What are you waiting for, child?” Herr Strucker grumbles at you. “Come. Sit.” And he gestures to where the God-King is watching you, sitting cross-legged and smiling.  
Of course he’s a hologram. He has to be a hologram. And he’s invisible to both of them too, or else Herr Strucker would be freaking out and Natasha would have reacted to his presence. The God-King appraises you as you walk up and raises an eyebrow as you get close enough to touch him and you can’t do it, you can’t break his illusion. He’s goading you and you don’t dare take the bait. Instead you lean over and secure the food from the table.  
“Uhm. Is it okay if I sit on the floor?” You ask and the God-King laughs silently at you.  
“Why would you want to sit on the floor?” Natasha asks.  
“Well, isn’t that what you wanted me to do all afternoon?” You ask her in a way you hope will be strange enough to convey the message to play along. But she just looks at you with a puzzled expression.  
“I said, sit on the seat, child.” Herr Strucker snaps. “How am I going to show you pictures of your condition if you’re sat on the floor?  
“Your condition?” The God-King asks. “What have you been doing, child?”  
“Hmmmm… Excuse me.” You say, pleading with him not to make this weird and the God-King smirks. He relents and slides off the seat and you get on with a sigh of relief.  
“You’re excused.” Herr Strucker says in annoyance and you bow your head to him. 

The God-King wanders around the table and you do your best not to follow him while you eat. He looks at some of the X-rays and tuts in disapproval.  
“Very poor resolution.” He says. “I mean the detail is shockingly bad.”  
“These are the X-rays of your arm.” Herr Strucker says pushing the pictures towards you. You stuff a whole new potato in your mouth and chew thoughtfully while you look.  
“Manners.” The God-King chides you, but you ignore him. You did it deliberately so you didn’t make any noise when you saw what was happening to you. Feeling it is one thing, but actually seeing the white tracery in your arm is quite, quite terrifying. You run one finger over the lines as you frown at the picture and swallow noisily.  
“Is it, uhm, in the muscle?” You ask quietly. It frightens you to think of all this wire, caught up in your arm and stopping you from moving. Or tightening around your lungs, or whatever.  
“These X-rays are not of the best quality. You move around too much.” Herr Strucker frowns at you and you look suitably contrite. “But we think the wire, if that what it is, is very fine and very flexible. We think it’s growing to overlay your nervous system.” Herr Strucker gives you another two pictures. They’re of your hand and this X-ray is better – the tracery is very detailed. He places a medical picture of the nervous system of the human hand beside it. The pattern is almost identical.  
“So it is in the muscle?” You say.  
“And in the subdermal layer, the lowest layer of your skin, down to very fine strands.” Another picture is handed over, this time of one of the skin samples you let them take from the back of your hand. It’s a microscopic image and the wires are everywhere.  
“But why would he be replacing my nervous system with wire?” You ask, looking the smirking hologram straight in the eye.  
“I’m not.” The God-King says.  
“He’s not.” Strucker says at the same time. “It’s more like it’s following the nervous cells, connecting with them throughout the body. So you have two systems almost identical, side by side.”  
“Okay. Is it the same with my neck?” You ask.  
“Yes.” Herr Strucker confirms after glancing at his notes.  
“So the nervous system is pain and reflexes right?” You ask uncertainly, science was never your strong suit.  
“Any kind of sensation at all.” Natasha supplies and you bite your lip in thought.  
“So maybe all this stuff is to make me feel a different kind of sensation?” You look at the God-King again and then look away. “What’s an Asgardian nervous system like?” You think out loud.  
“Pardon?” Herr Strucker asks.  
“Well they have magic as well as science, don’t they? I mean they feel it like you or I would feel a breeze. Well, where do they get that sensation from? Is their nervous system just more advanced than ours, or do they have a separate one that helps them sense it?”  
The God-King gives you a slow, sarcastic handclap.  
“It’s certainly an interesting theory.” Herr Strucker agrees and makes a note.  
“Just completely wrong.” The God-King says. So you feel you might be on the right track. 

You look at the X-rays some more while you finish eating. It’s frightening and wonderful and terrifying and fascinating all at once in one big emotional bundle. Mr Stark would love to see these and you wish you could confer with him about them. You know you’re missing tons of stuff he would work out in minutes.  
“I mean the big question is: Is it hurting me?” You say thoughtfully. “I mean it isn’t physically hurting, but is it damaging me? Because, well, I haven’t really lived very long yet and I’d like to know if it’s burning me out or leaving something behind that’s going to make problems for when I get older.”  
“What, regrets already?” The God-King asks as he wanders behind you. He leans down to whisper in your ear. “Scared of dying a virgin?”  
“What no! Ew!” You say and realise that both Herr Strucker and Natasha are looking at you. “Erm, sorry, just thinking about what will happen when it reaches my organs properly. I mean my heart and stuff.”  
“I wouldn’t worry too much.” Strucker assures you. “Apparently your lung capacity is very powerful for a child you size and age.”  
“You measured that when I breathed really hard into the plastic monitor thing, right?” There were so many tests, it was hard to keep up.  
“Yes. And for a child your age and size your lung strength is excellent. Beyond any normal expectations. We’ve taken your heart rate and other readings to compare when the wiring reaches other parts of your body, so we have a baseline.”  
“Right.” You chew your bottom lip again as an aid to thinking. “So it’s making me stronger?”  
“Potentially, yes.”  
“So it being in my muscles is a good thing?”  
“Don’t go trying to lift any cars yet.” Natasha tells you.  
“Or try to arm wrestle Captain America or anything.” The God-King adds, still talking softly in your ear. It’s really disconcerting.  
“Don’t worry, I won’t.” You answer both. 

“The very interesting part is in your blood and your DNA.” Herr Strucker continues.  
“Why don’t you just parade as a circus freak and have done with it?” The God-King asks. “Letting them prod and poke you like a science experiment. It’s demeaning.”  
“What about it?” You ask, trying to ignore him completely.  
“Well, you’re young and you’re healthy so we should expect a good red and white blood cell count. But yours was through the roof, on both.”  
“And that’s good?”  
“Outstanding. Almost to super-human levels.” Herr Stucker tells you.  
“And you say I never give you anything.” The God-King says.  
“In fact…” Strucker continues. “…We’ve never seen anything like this since the serum which made Captain America. We will be taking more samples over the next few weeks for extra study.”  
“Oh.” You say.  
“Oh?” Natasha asks.  
“Not to the blood tests.” You say quickly. “Take what you need, just don’t kill me, okay?”  
Strucker smiles at you.  
“Lab rat.” The God-King whispers. “They’re going to put you in a cage and suck you dry.”  
“Anyway... I had surgery, after the Battle for New York was over. I was really wounded, you remember Natasha?” She nods in agreement. “But they were too late, one of my wounds got badly infected and it got in my blood stream. I was ill and feverish for a week, I should have died, but somehow I pulled through…”  
“So this happened very quickly after the initial placement of the circle on your palm?” Herr Strucker asks.  
“Yes, about two days after, maybe three, I’m not certain anymore.” You think about it. “But it was before the collar.”  
“So the circle on your palm boosted your cell count?” Herr Strucker starts to make more notes.  
“It must have done.” And you lied to me, you think savagely at the God-King. You said it was because I was gifted.

“What about the DNA?” Natasha asks and Herr Strucker looks uncertain.  
“This part, we’re most unsure about. We took samples from infected parts of the body and uninfected parts...”  
“I infected you. Does that make you feel dirty?” The God-King asks and you almost scream at him to shut up. But you rein it in and keep your cool. You can’t tell them he’s here, there would be too much explaining. Anyway, you really want to know what Herr Strucker has got to say.  
“And…?” Natasha presses him  
“Well, there’s a theory about cancer and aging in general. At the end of each chromosome there’s a part called a Telomere. This is what stops the chromosome from fraying when it splits to make a new cell. When it replicates.” Herr Strucker is reading this from his notes. “After replication it has been noted that the telomere generally gets slightly shorter or takes damage from the process. So the longer the telomere and the more intact, the better.”  
“Okay.” You say. “I’m following so far, I think.”  
“You’re still young, so your telomeres are in good condition, as should be expected. However the ones in your infected DNA cells are all perfect.” Herr Strucker pauses for effect. “All of them.”  
“And the uninfected parts aren’t?”  
“No, they’re normal for a child your age.” Herr Strucker looks uncomfortable. “We only checked this because of the legend of the long life in Asgardians. One of the scientists had a pet theory…”  
“And now they’re going to dissect you.” The God-King says in a sing-song voice.  
“Are you going to dissect me?” You demand and Herr Strucker looks at you strangely.  
“That was not the plan, no. Dead cells degrade far too quickly and we want to see what happens when the wire finishes its work.”  
“See?” You mutter under your breath and the God-King grins.  
“But you’re saying the kid might have a longer life span than a normal human, because of what’s being done?” Natasha asks.  
“That and you’re less likely to get the more deadly cell destroying diseases. With this additional data added to the high white count…”  
“And you’re welcome.” The God-King says as you sit there, stunned by this revelation.  
“…Means this child is going to have a very healthy and long lifespan.” Herr Strucker finishes. 

“How long do Asgardians live?” You ask hesitantly.  
“Around five thousand years.” The God-King says nonchalantly.  
“Five thousand years!” You choke out.  
“The current theories about three, but it could be possible.” Natasha agrees. “How you know?”  
“I didn’t, I just…” You look down at the table. “This is way too weird.”  
“Or of course the ‘infection’ could just be healing your cells as you go. So you’ve just got an extra fourteen years onto your life span.” The God-King says mockingly. “Shame you’re not sixty.”  
“I’ve had enough.” You push back and get up off your seat. “This is just way too much to take in.” You stop and look between Natasha and Herr Strucker, suddenly aware that you should ask permission before you leave.  
“I’d… I’d like to go. If that’s okay with you?”  
Herr Strucker nods in sympathy.  
“Go. Let it sink in. We’ll continue this tomorrow.” He nods to Natasha and she gets up and leads you out of the room. 

*

You climb up the stairs and into the first corridor and Natasha stops you. She looks around to make sure you’re both alone before glaring around the space.  
“Okay, Loki, show yourself.” She snaps.  
The God-King shimmers and you know he’s changing his illusion so she can see him as well.  
“How did you know?” He asks.  
“How could I not? The second your child didn’t want to sit down I knew it was something like this.”  
“My child?” The God-King asks, looking down at you with distain.  
“After what you’ve done?” Natasha snaps.  
“I can’t ever change back, can I?” You ask softly and they both pause in their work up to an argument to look at you.  
“No, child.” The God-King says. “I’m sorry.”  
“You’re sorry?” Natasha snarls.  
“Well, not sorry about doing it, but sorry you had to find out this way. So uncouth with the X-rays and the guesswork. These people have no idea what they’re doing and their techniques are sloppy at best and questionable at worst. I’ve been having a tour.”  
“You could have just told me.” You say aggrieved.  
“And spoil the joy of finding out for yourself?” The God-King smiles. “You’ve only just begun to realise your potential, little one.”

“Am I really gifted, or was that just some bullshit excuse to hide the fact you’ve Frankensteined me?” You demand angrily.  
“I don’t think that is actually a word.” The God-King chides you. “And Frankenstein was the scientist, not the monster.”  
“What, so I’m the monster now?” You’re almost shouting.  
“Well, the experiment, certainly.” The God-King smiles. “I’ve given you new life, have I not?”  
“You didn’t answer the question.” Natasha prompts quietly from where she’s watching you.  
“What question?”  
“Is the child gifted?”  
“Well… Yes.” The God-King looks baffled. “Absolutely. You’ve felt it yourself.”  
“This morning? When you were in my mind?” She looks at you and you nod in agreement.  
“A talented pupil.” The God-King statics your hair. “And very imaginative with the few tricks I’ve shown them.”  
“You must be proud.” Natasha says, her voice strangely blank as she watches the God-King’s familiar gesture towards you.  
“Well, the child has its moments.” He says and you look away in embarrassment. You don’t trust this new, friendly God-King. He’s up to something and waiting for you to stumble right into his trap.  
“Sometimes, I almost feel like a father to them.” His emphasis is on father and you look at your feet. Right, he’s here because of the dig you made earlier… Shit, is he going to hurt you right in front of Black Widow?

“So how long have you known?” Natasha asks and begins to herd you along the corridor so the God-King has to walk quickly to keep up.  
“Known what, exactly?”  
“That Strucker has your child?”  
“Oh, since before the plane journey here.”  
“And you let him continue with the kidnapping?”  
“I thought about blowing them out of the sky, but while satisfying, it wouldn’t have really achieved much.”  
You swallow in fear and look away from his meaningful glance in your direction. You don’t want to remember that particular conversation.  
“So you didn’t know before then?”  
“Well, I needed to know the location of all the HYDRA bases and it seemed prudent to sacrifice the child to discover his main base of operations.” The God-King smiles at her, completely unrepentant.  
“So you sacrificed a pawn to corner a king.”  
“Yes, if you like.” The God-King shrugs. “But I dislike chess as an analogy, and Strucker, a king? Hardly. Life is far more complicated and fun. Chess has little leeway for bending or breaking the rules.”  
“I can see why you’d dislike that part.” Natasha agrees.  
“And I knew you were here, little spider, and Strucker wouldn’t be able to resist reuniting you. So two birds, one stone.”  
“You let them experiment on her.” You accuse him and the God-King shrugs.  
“I’m going to let them experiment on you, too. I’m not breaking the terms. Their little witch is so inexperienced that she could never drive our spider here to suicide.”  
“And while they think me under their sway, I have no fear for them killing me.” Natasha agrees.  
“Precisely.” The God-King nods. “And so you see how it all neatly slots together.” 

“So are you in the mood for sharing what you’ve actually done to me?” You ask and the God-King laughs.  
“Not in the slightest.”  
“Then why are you here?”  
“To watch over you a while. To see what the minds of HYDRA have put together. To see how near they are unravelling your secrets.”  
“And?”  
“Not even close.” The God-King laughs again. “Though I can pretty much guarantee you’re not going to live for five thousand years.”  
“Well that’s something at least.” You say. “A starting point to work from.”  
“Yes. I’ll give you that for free.”  
You reach the stairs and it appears that the God-King can’t be bothered with them as he disappears as you start to climb and is waiting for you at the top. He follows you to the door to your room and watches Natasha unlock it and gesture you inside.  
“Ms Romanov.” He calls as she’s about to follow you. “Could I have a word?”  
She glances at you.  
“I can assure you the child will be safe while we talk.” He smiles at you. “Go on, child. Get some more sleep. You need it after this morning.”  
“Okay.” You nod to him and turn to Natasha. “Don’t trust him.” You tell her gravely.  
“I don’t think it will be a problem.” She answers equally seriously. The God-King shakes his head in amusement.  
“Such a little protégé. They grow up so fast, don’t they? Now go away, child.” He raises his hand theatrically, gestures and the door slams shut in your face.  
“Manners.” You mutter angrily and stick your tongue out at the closed door. It makes you feel slightly better. 

You’re not tired so you go and sit in the chair. You find a pen and some blank paper in the desk drawer and you start to write down the ideas you have about the wires, your palm and the whole magic thing while you wait for Black Widow to come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just because I feel like it, here's a 70s Batman cliffhanger type ending.  
> (Just imagine the slightly sarky male commentator in your head and this will work.) 
> 
> Is the kid a superhero?  
> Is Loki conducting human experiments of his own?  
> Why the reference to a DC TV series in a Marvel fan fic?
> 
> Find out these answers and more in the next thrilling episode of A World Filled With Lies, same Bat place, same Bat channel... 
> 
> *Queue cheesy music.*


	24. A Spider's Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Natasha?”  
> “Hmmm?”  
> “Do you have a brother or sister?”  
> “No.”   
> “Well neither did I, until two days ago.”  
> Natasha puts down the papers and looks at you.  
> “What do you mean?”   
> “Well, I’m out here and the God-King’s in New York and he kinda… Found a replacement for me…?”   
> It still hurts to say it.  
> “He made a bargain with another kid?”  
> “Yeah.”  
> “Poor kid.”  
> “Yeah.” You sigh. “But we’re connected, because of, well…” You raise your palm to show her the circle. “And he says we’re siblings now.”   
> “Connected how?”   
> “I can talk to her.” You sigh. “I can reach half way across the world and get in her head and talk to her.”  
> “Wow, that’s something.”  
> “I guess…” You go quiet and look at the ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where the kid has a conversation with their new sister and Black Widow gives the kid some psychoanalysis of their situation.
> 
> Quite a talky chapter, but important all the same. I'm setting up some important relationships for later. 
> 
> As always: Enjoy. :)

*

You’re about fifteen minutes into writing when it occurs to you. You’re wearing a collar which has put wires into your throat and climbed halfway down into your lungs, but hasn’t touched your head? It’s penetrated down to microscopic levels into your skin, but it hasn’t touched your skull or your brain? You think of all the pictures Herr Strucker showed you. None of them were of your head, in fact they all cut off just above the collar – all of them. You think about writing in big shouty capitals ‘WHAT’S IN MY HEAD?’ but refrain from doing so. If they don’t want to tell you, they don’t want to tell you and if they know it’s weird and scary then maybe you don’t want to know. Not yet. It also seems a plan to pretend you don’t know they’re hiding something, so they won’t be on guard against casual questioning. You might make them slip up. Either way, you’ve got enough to worry about without starting on wires in the brain.

You stand and start to pace. You no longer just want to sit around and wait. You feel antsy and strange and filled with an overwhelming energy to just do something. It’s the wires in your brain, you don’t want to think about them, but how can you not think about something like that? You need something to do, something to take your mind off this crap. 

Laura.

Her name comes to you unbidden and you sigh and sit down on the bed. It’s been almost two days since the God-King took her on as your replacement and he said he’d been gentle with her. Did she even know you existed? How connected were you? Could you reach her, like you did with the God-King? Can you even make a connection from such a distance? When you reached the God-King it had been so far away you’d felt blind and deaf, until he’d guided you to his eyes…

You sigh again and lie back. You don’t want to think about seeing what he did to the Captain. The guy was a Grade A bastard, but it was the sceptre, not him. By all accounts the Captain was a really good man when he was in his own mind. He didn’t deserve to have half his back flayed off and get thrown into a cell. HYDRA hasn’t even hurt you yet. And the God-King is benefitting from it. You figure he already knows where you are and is setting plans in motion to get you out and burn the place to the ground. Hence the talk with Black Widow. You look up at the ceiling. So you’re probably going to meet Laura in person fairly soon anyway. But on the other hand, if your rescue is coming, then you’d better get in some long-distance practice while you can. 

You close your eyes and listen to the deep beating of your heart. Will it change when the wires reach it? Will it beat stronger or faster or heavier or… This isn’t helping, you need to focus. You inhale and hold the breath and exhale slowly letting the stress unwind in your chest. Find your centre, concentrate on the task in front of you. You are as strong as marble, as focused as a beam of light. You can do this. You place your hand on your stomach, palm up and you touch it carefully with the fingers of your other hand. And just like that you feel the answering chime of another disc, miles away. You also hear the one in your throat murmuring at the call, stirring and enhancing your searching spell. You reach out and feel the third disc thrumming and singing and calling you forward.

It’s evening where you are, but only early afternoon where she is. Light streams in through the window behind her. The time difference must be hours apart. Laura’s sat at the couch in the lounge, absently rubbing at her palm. She doesn’t even realise she senses you, she’s completely magically blind. But when you enter her head she stiffens and looks around uncertainly.   
“Hello?” She calls out.  
“Hello.” You answer in her mind.  
“What… Shit… What is that?” She says aloud.  
“You don’t have to vocalise, just think it and I’ll hear.” You tell her.  
“What the hell is this?” She demands standing up and looking around.   
You sigh.  
“Listen carefully, Laura. I’m in your head, I’m miles away… Russia I think… And I’m trying to make contact with you for the first time.” You say patiently.   
“I don’t… What…?”  
“Just… Just go with it okay?”   
She sits back down.  
“Okay.” She says, still talking out loud. You can work on that.

“So who are you?” She asks.  
“I don’t have a name.”  
“Hah! Then how do I even know you’re real?”  
“It’s a good question.” You admit. “All I can do is assure you I am real and that you’re not the first one to ask me. I’m not an illusion, either.”   
“So why don’t you have a name?”  
“I did have one, up to a few months ago and the God-King took it.”   
“Who?”  
“The God-King Loki?”  
“Oh. Our resident Prince?”  
“He’s a King, Laura. He’s our God now. He’s not a Prince, not anymore.”   
“Not until he wins he isn’t.” Laura tells you. “He lets me call him Prince Loki.”   
You’re so shocked by learning this, you don’t speak straight away.  
“Huh. That shut you up didn’t it?” Laura laughs, but not unkindly.   
“Why does he let you call him that?” You ask uncertainly.  
“I called him it and he let it stick.” She says.  
“You need to be more careful. He’ll make you pay for discourtesy.”  
“Maybe you, but not me. He’s been nice to me.”   
“And I’d wonder why, if I was in your position.” You tell her warningly.  
“I’m going to call you Harvey. You mind being called Harvey?”  
“Why Harvey?” You ask, slightly thrown by the change in conversation.   
“I saw this old TV program once, a girl had this imaginary rabbit friend called Harvey.”  
“If you like.” Names don’t mean much to you anymore. If it helps Laura acclimatise to your presence, then sure why not? It’s no less condescending than Mini Me or Short Stuff.  
“I’ll answer to Harvey.” You agree.  
“Smashing.”   
“Ummm…”

“You sound American, are you American?” She asks, once again going off on a tangent.  
“New York, born and bred.” You tell her with a hint of pride.  
“So you were here then, when it happened?”  
“I saw the God-King catch Mr Stark.”   
“Shit, really?” She asks, impressed.   
“Really.”  
“That must have been awesome.” Laura pauses. “And proper scary.”  
“Yes to both.” You agree. “But more scary than awesome.”   
“So, how come you can talk to me?”  
“Because we’re connected.”   
“You’re shitting me? How?” She looks around as if looking for wires or something.   
“See the mark on your palm?” You ask and she looks down at it, still rubbing absently at the metal.  
“Yeah?”  
“I’ve got one too.”  
“How?”  
“It might just be easier to show you… Now this will be weird, but trust me okay?”  
“I guess.” Laura shrugs. She takes it so blandly you know the God-King hasn’t been in her head yet.   
“Okay. Hold on.” 

You show her the memory of your bargain with the God-King from when you meet in the aisle of the store. You want her to see how frightening he was and how cruel. You want to warn her. Afterwards Laura is quiet for a long time. 

“That was, huh, I don’t know what that was.” She says finally. “So you pretty much know all the Avengers, then?”  
“I’ve met most of them, yes.”  
“What’s Thor like?” She asks.  
“I haven’t met him. He left New York and the force-field came down and, well.” You shrug. “I guess he went elsewhere.”   
“Back to Asgard?”  
“Who knows, maybe… No wait, the Bifrost has been destroyed.”  
“The what?”  
“It’s how they get to Earth, so he couldn’t get back. I guess he’s still here somewhere.”   
“Cool.”   
“I guess.” If he’s anything like the God-King you never want to meet him. 

“So we both have these palm things?”  
“Yes.”   
“You know what they do? Apart from the telepathy which you have to teach me.”  
“I don’t think I can, just yet.” You say, deflecting the first question by answering the second. You don’t want to explain wires in the skin just yet. Start with the connection first, one step at a time. “It’s complicated and you’re really far away. I had lots of practice before I was separated from the God-King, you have to work up to distance.”   
“I suppose that makes sense.” Laura kicks back in her seat. “So why was the Prince such a dick to you?”  
“He’s going to be the same with you. The first thing he teaches is betrayal.”  
“Huh.” She unimpressed. “Think I’ve already had that life lesson, thank you very much.”   
“Just be careful, okay?”   
“Yeah, sure.” But she doesn’t sound convinced. “He’s going to teach me how to dance tonight.”   
“How to dance?”  
“Yeah. You know he said he’d show me another planet? Last night I sat at his feet while he was on the couch and he played with my hair and told me stories about Asgard.”

She can’t hide her memories, she has no mental defences at all and you easily gain access to what happened to her the night before. After he chooses her and dismisses the other children, the God-King takes her up to the apartment and into the kitchen. He bathes her sore hand in the kitchen sink and apologises for the pain, kissing her fingers gently. The servants have made them a meal and they sit opposite each other at the kitchen table and exchange stories. He’s courteous and his laugh is bright and kind. She asks him if she can call him Prince Loki and he agrees graciously and opens a bottle of wine. They adjourn to the lounge and they both sit on the couch and sip their drinks while the God-King tells her about Asgard. Soon she’s a little tipsy and she ends up on his lap, but he doesn’t do anything inappropriate. She slides down onto the floor between his legs and he starts to play with her hair and they continue to talk. He gestures to the CD player and it turns on and starts playing classical music. It’s all really soothing and nice. The conversation moves to dancing and he starts to tell her about court and all the women in their finery. She asks him to show her and he changes her clothes to something a noble woman would wear – all green and gold and silky. She stands and goes to his full length mirror in the bedroom and gives him a twirl. He kisses her neck softly and promises to show her how the courtly women dance tomorrow. It’s all wonderful and dream-like and you’re as suspicious as hell. Then he takes her to an empty bedroom on the same floor as his apartment. He kisses her cheek and bids her goodnight and she hasn’t seen him since.

“Wait, you have a room?” You demand.  
“You don’t?”  
“No, I don’t. I sleep on the floor by his bedroom.”  
“What, really? Are you his servant or something, or his jester? Didn’t jesters have to do that?”   
“I’m not his jester!” You snap. “I’m his…” You don’t know what you are. “I’m his child.”   
“What biologically?”  
“No, it’s not like that.”  
“Then what is it like?”  
“I don’t know.” You sigh. “It’s complicated.”   
“So what did you do the first night you were with him?”  
“I. Ummm. I cleaned the seats in his flying chariot.”  
“What really?” She laughs. “And you’re not a servant how?”  
“Shut up.”  
“And he has a flying chariot?”  
“More like a carriage thing. It’s Chitauri technology, but made more in his style.”  
“Wow, I’m so gonna have to get him to show me.”   
“He has more than one.”  
“What, really?”  
“Yeah, I know because he left me in the first one in case I died while I slept and he had to dispose of my body.” You tell her bitterly and she goes quiet.

“Holy shit.” She says eventually.  
“Yeah, so fuck you and your dancing.”   
“It isn’t my fault he doesn’t like you.”  
“He does like me, it’s just…”  
“Complicated?”  
“Yeah.” You pause and take a deep breath. “Just be careful, Laura. He isn’t as nice as you think.”   
“Okay, Harvey.” She says and you just want to hurt her. Just because. But you resist the urge.  
“I’m going to go to my room now and think this all over.” Laura continues. “Do you mind getting out of my head now?”   
“Sure, I guess.” You say grumpily. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”  
“Sure, I’d like that.” She says, still talking out loud. It’s so dorky. She’s so dorky, and stupid and trusting. The God-King’s going to eat her alive. But that’s the lesson isn’t it? There’s nothing you can really do to convince her until he turns on her.   
“Talk to you tomorrow, Laura.” You say, keeping your cool. “Sleep well.”   
“You too.”   
You break the connection and stare up at the ceiling.

*

About ten minutes later Natasha walks in.  
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” She asks as she sits down at the desk.  
“I’m on the bed aren’t I?” You answer, still grumpy. “I couldn’t sleep.”  
“Well, so long as you’re resting.” Natasha opens the arch file and takes out a few papers to read.  
“Natasha?”  
“Hmmm?”  
“Do you have a brother or sister?”  
“No.”  
“Well neither did I, until two days ago.”  
Natasha puts down the papers and looks at you.  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well, I’m out here and the God-King’s in New York and he kinda… Found a replacement for me…?”  
It still hurts to say it.  
“He made a bargain with another kid?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Poor kid.”  
“Yeah.” You sigh. “But we’re connected, because of, well…” You raise your palm to show her the circle. “And he says we’re siblings now.”  
“Connected how?”  
“I can talk to her.” You sigh. “I can reach half way across the world and get in her head and talk to her.”  
“Wow, that’s something.”  
“I guess…” You go quiet and look at the ceiling.

“I’m guessing there’s a ‘but’ coming along with this.” Natasha says after a short while.   
“Uhm…” You bite your lip. “I’m already jealous.”   
“Already?”  
“He’s being really nice to her. Last night he had a meal with her and opened a bottle of wine and laughed and there was classical music. He played with her hair while they talked and he gave her a dress and promised dancing.” Your voice is growing progressively more bitter as you go along.  
“Well it’s her first night.”  
“My first night he made my wash my pee off his seats after he made me wet myself in fear. Then he took me to the shower block, made me strip down and wash with cheap soap while he watched me. Whenever I tried to reason with him, he hurt me.” You touch your temple. “Right in here.”   
“So he’s using different tactics with your new sibling.”   
“I guess.”  
“Is she gifted as well?” Natasha asks and you snort.   
“No.” You laugh. “She’s like, completely blind. I could seriously fuck her up.”  
“But you didn’t?” She asks sharply.  
“No, of course not. I’m not like him.”   
“But you were tempted.”   
You let out a long heavy breath.  
“Yes.” You admit.   
Natasha gives a small smile and nods.   
“It’s okay to feel that way. Just so long as you don’t act on it.”  
“I won’t. I promise.”

“So, if you could hurt her badly, what could Loki do?”  
“He could blend her mind, like seriously turn it in puree.”  
“Whereas your mind is much stronger. You could take the pain, she can’t.” Natasha pushes the file to one side and puts her feet up on the desk. She knows she’s in this for the long-haul. “Is she strong in other ways?”  
“Oh yeah, she’s tough and wilful and so practical it’s untrue.” You sit up abruptly. “I mean her mum is dying, right? Of brain cancer. The God-King asked her what she wanted and she asked to see another planet. She didn’t even mention her mum at first.”  
“It is pretty personal.”   
“Well, yeah, duh. But heart’s desire? Her mum’s got to be high on the list.”  
“Did she say why not?”  
“Because…” And you go quiet and feel like a douche. “Because, well, she said she knew her mum couldn’t be cured.”   
“So her mum’s got an incurable disease and you’re giving her shit because she knows what the word incurable means?”   
“Well when you put it like that…”  
“What else did she ask for?”   
“That the God-King try to save her mum, but no pressure, she gets it if he can’t. But if he does he has to send her mum home to England, so she can be with her dad. If he can’t cure her mum then she wants him to send word to her dad anyway, let him know she’s still alive and mum’s dead.”  
“Well that’s pretty practical.”  
“And, uh, consensual sex only. She says she’s sixteen and that’s the age of consent in England.” You look over at Natasha. “Is that true?”  
“Yep.”  
“Wow. Okay. So she says that if he wants to, well, you get the picture, then she has to say yes.”  
“So she’s covered herself and put down some ground rules, which was more than you did.”   
“I guess.” You look at your feet.   
“So what you’re basically saying is you’re two completely different people. You and your new sister.” Natasha sits back. “Let me think a minute.”  
“Okay.” 

Natasha pushes back in the chair so it stands on two legs, like you were always shouted at for school for doing. She wobbles the chair back and forwards and clicks her tongue.   
“So the way I see it.” She says finally. “You’re the kind of person who thrives under intense pressure, while your sister is more the practical explorer type.”   
You nod without any comprehension and she smiles at you.  
“My specialty is reading people.” She continues. “It’s what I do. It’s what Loki does as well and he’s had a much longer to refine his talent. So he knows what buttons to press to get the best results.”   
She stabs a thumb at you.  
“You’re a survivor, you do well under life threatening and difficult situations. You respond positively to it, even if you hate it. I saw as much myself. When given the choice you gave your life for ours, because we had a better survival chance than you did. You did the math and you made your case. So when Loki took you on he piled on the pressure, hurt you and scared you and convinced you that death could be just around the next corner. It’s your motivation, it’s what makes you learn and so it’s what he controls you with. You’re far more a stick person than one who needs a carrot.”   
“So you’re saying I’m a masochist?”  
“Not quite. I didn’t say you enjoyed it.”  
“Well I guess there’s that.” You shrug. 

“So what about, Laura?”  
“Your sister?” Natasha looks at the ceiling. “I haven’t met her, so I can’t say for sure, but listening to your description she sounds like she’s a different personality entirely. She wants to travel, to see the world, but she’s tethered by a sick parent and responsibilities. So when she’s asked her heart’s desire, she chooses honestly. She’s vulnerable in a completely different way. She wants stories and encouragement, strange costumes and high excitement. So that’s what Loki gives her.”  
“And when he crushes her?”  
“He won’t. It’d break her. By asking him to take her away, she explicitly states that she trusts him.”  
“Huh.” That one syllable conveys how stupid you think she is.  
“So he can’t betray that trust, because it’s intrinsic to her nature. He’ll control her through it instead, manipulate her emotionally to become completely dependent on him.”   
“What does that mean exactly?”   
Natasha looks you straight in the eye.  
“That you’re getting the better deal.”  
You look at her in stunned surprise.

“Why?” You ask eventually.  
“Because with her it’ll be subtle. He’ll start off being really nice to her. Dresses and music and dancing. Then it’ll be little criticisms, about the way she holds herself, about her dress sense, about how she talks, maybe. He’ll make her trip over his feet when they’re dancing and tell her she’s got two left feet. He’ll orchestrate it so she breaks things by accident or organise it so she loses items. He’ll make her think she’s forgetful and clumsy. He’ll undermine her confidence and her self-esteem so she thinks that only he will ever want her. She’ll begin to doubt herself, begin to think he’s right and he’ll undermine her from within.”   
“Ouch.”  
“Alongside all the other stuff, he’ll subtly attack her, removing memories and substituting new ones, maybe leaving blank periods entirely, so she thinks she’s going mad.”   
Natasha sees your grim expression and nods in agreement.  
“He can’t do that to you, he has to be more direct. You’re emotionally more stable and you can tell when he’s messing with your mind. He controls you through fear and random acts of kindness. You live for those small moments of payback, when you think you’ve got away with something. He’ll control her with love and manipulation. The violence will come later, once she’s totally under his thumb.”  
“How do you know?”  
“It’s what I’d do.” She shrugs. “If you or her were my assignment.”   
“Shit, really?” You’re shocked at her confession.  
“I told you I wasn’t a nice person, I used to be extremely immoral. Now I’m trying to repent. Trying to get back in the black and out of the red.”   
“Shit.” You look at the floor. “She’s really screwed.”  
“Not as much as she could be.” Natasha smiles. “She still has you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Black Widow really is the definition of the heroic redemption plot line.   
> It's strange how close she is to Tony and Loki in back story and yet she reacts to it all so differently.  
> And refreshing that she is so different, that the Avengers, for all their faults are not just card board cut-outs of each other with different suits and genders. 
> 
> I don't know, maybe I'm rambling, this was a really deep chapter, okay?
> 
> Enough said. 
> 
> Oh and broke a hundred kudos. Thank you to everyone who's contributed, you are all wonderful people and I love you. (But not in that way... So don't get too excited, 'kay? ;) )


	25. Strange And Unpleasant Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I also have another experiment I would like you to try.” Herr Strucker continues. “Dr Mattiss thinks your circle might have some control over electrical impulses. I agreed to test his theories if he came up with a safe way to do so.” He walks over to a stand, shrouded by a cloth. He pulls it off to show you one of those electric globes you see at science fayres, the ones that flicker with electric charge which move around the globe randomly. When you put your fingers to the glass the charge connects directly to the tips.  
> “This is the solution he came up with.” Herr Strucker gestures you over and you slide off your seat and walk across the room to him.  
> “What do you want me to do?”  
> “First put your palm with the circle onto the glass.”  
> You follow his instruction and the electric instantly starts to ground itself against your hand.  
> “Now concentrate on the idea of removing all charge from you palm.”  
> “How do I…?”  
> “Dr Mattiss thinks you can do this instinctively.”  
> “Okay, give me a minute.”  
> “Take all the time you need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strucker's tests begin to gain traction and the kid has an argument with the God-King over Laura.
> 
> It has been a long few days and I'm really tired. Pretty much just got up to finish writing and editing this update, but my concentration's shot, so apologies for any major typos.
> 
> Another slow burner of a chapter, but an important one. Still laying groundwork guys, keep with me on this.

*

The next three weeks go by quickly. Natasha takes you on for simple self-defence classes with the permission of Herr Strucker. She’s a good teacher, hard, uncompromising , but more than willing to explain if you don’t understand, which is often. You’ve never done a day of self-defence in your life so she starts with simple locks and stamina building exercises. When she finds out you were starting knife training with the God-King she procures a couple so that you can continue. They’re practical and well balanced, but no where near as pretty as your old knife. You miss it all the time and wish you hadn’t taken it off to please Captain America. But then, if HYDRA had kidnapped you with it on, they would have taken it and you’d have never seen it again. So these thing balance out you suppose…

“Herr Strucker wants to see you.” Natasha blows her nose for the fiftieth time that day. “They’ve had a breakthrough of sorts with you condition.” She hands you the note and you read it as well.  
“Half an hour?” You sigh. “I’ve got to change.”  
Your invincibility to illness has been vindicated by a bout of virulent flu which is ravaging most of the small town you live in and half the fortress staff. Even Natasha has come down with it, though you’re surreptitiously working through your bond to help her overcome it quickly. It’s a bad strain, lasts around ten days and has killed twenty old people and three babies as far as you’ve heard. If you told the God-King he could break you out with ease. But you’re settling here, you’ve been given the room next to Natasha, a HYDRAish uniform to wear while at meetings and some casual wear for training. You’re no longer a prisoner and people have started to call you an ‘asset’ rather than an ‘interesting subject’. It’s all very refreshing to you and you’re starting to face up to the idea of having actual responsibilities and some self-determination. The God-King hasn’t been in touch since the day he came to goad you. He hasn’t even left a channel open. He’s leaving you to your own devices for a while and you intend to capitalise on them. 

You sheathe your knife and bow to Natasha, who nods in return. She’s sat up in bed watching you and sipping at the honey and lemon drink you made for her on the little camp stove you stole from Requisitions for that specific purpose. Natasha calls it stealth training and you’re surprisingly good at it. Out here you don’t get Lemsip. The honey’s real, there’s a really hardy species of bee that the locals cultivate and care for so they get sugar for fermenting a really kiss-ass mead they mix with their vodka, but the lemon is a powdered variety used for flavouring. Still it seems to help her all the same.  
“I’ll get changed too.” She says, groaning as she sits on the edge of the bed. “Shit, head rush.”  
“No need.” You hate the way the flu has affected her, and she’s a terrible patient. Really, always trying to get on with her day like she isn’t half dead and with aching joints and a blocked nose and throat. You’re glad you have a room to yourself because at night the flu makes her she snore incredibly loud.  
“Come on.” You gently take her arm and coax her to lie back down. “Get some sleep. I’ve got this.”  
“You shouldn’t be wandering around by yourself.” She mutters, but she only puts up a token resistance because of the subtle suggestion you place into her mind. “You might get lost.”  
“Same place as last time, right?” You glance at the note again. “Room ten five B?”  
“Same place.”  
“Then I won’t get lost.” You fluff her pillow and put it back under her head. You pull the blanket up and tuck her in. “Get some sleep.”  
“Kid…” She tries to protest but you reinforce the suggestion and before long she’s snoring. If she ever works out what you’re doing she is so going to kick your ass across the entire fortress. But hopefully she’s too out of it to realise your messing with her head. Subtly and for her own good, of course. She’s been ill for two days and is almost over the worst of it already, she’ll be up and about again in four. Compared to ten days of agony and frustration, it’s worth the vague guilt you feel every time you make her actually look after herself. You slip back into your room, put on your pressed HYDRAish uniform and head down to see Herr Strucker. 

He’s just getting over the flu as well and he watches you with unconcealed envy as you walk in. You know if he could distil a cure from your blood, you’d be on an operating table right now.  
“Natasha sends her apologies, Herr Strucker.” You say, bowing formally. “But she is too ill to join us today.” Herr Strucker makes a face and waves it off. You go and sit down next to him and he passes you the most recent test results.  
“What am I looking at?” You ask, staring at the incomprehensible tables in front of you.  
“Your endurance training.”  
“Oh, right, that stuff two weeks ago?” You enjoyed the endurance training, which had come as quite a surprise, you’d expected to hate it. The scientists put loads of different sensors all over your body and then put you in a room which simulates a type of weather or temperature variation. Then they monitored all your vitals to see how long you’d last. It was the brainchild of the same woman who checked your telomeres. She’s convinced you’re becoming Asgardian, though why Asgardians would be filled with wire, you don’t know. You frown at the papers and look through them several times.  
“I’m sorry Herr Strucker, but you’re going to have to explain all this to me.”  
“You are very resistant to temperature variations. You upper limits are beyond those of a normal, healthy human. Temperatures and weather conditions which would kill a human in minutes, ordinarily, you can survive for an average of half an hour.”  
“Wow, okay.” You’re impressed despite yourself. “Anything I’m really good at?”  
“You can endure the cold far longer than excessive heat. Your best score was in blizzard conditions, do you remember that particular test?”

“Yes.” It had been fun. They’d dressed you in a tracksuit and sent you into a freezing, howling gale from the wind machine. Once you’d got used to the variables, it has been nice, the constant heavy wind as helpful to concentration as the beating of your heart. You’d started to meditate and had lasted three hours before the medical team had freaked out and decided enough was enough.  
You find you’re beginning to like the cold more and more.  
“Since you’re in Russia, it will be of particular use to us.” Herr Strucker smiles at you.  
“Good, I like to be useful.” You answer. “And to have something concrete to think about.”  
The other stuff they’d discovered: Slightly enhanced healing and overall stamina, the way your scars were beginning to fade almost to invisibility, a slight increase in strength in your right arm… It wasn’t overly useful. Sure you can’t catch the flu, but how useful is that on the field? This was something you could work with.  
“Dr Corin is pushing to put you through vacuum conditions, but I have forbidden it.” Herr Strucker tells you. “As fascinating as it might be, I do not see the practical use for such testing.”  
“And it might actually kill me?” You say sarcastically. “I mean, blizzard isn’t anything like vacuum, right?”  
“Exactly. And since we’re not planning to put you in space any time soon…” Herr Strucker smiles at you.  
“Thank you, Herr Strucker.” It doesn’t hurt to be polite to the man reining in all the weird stuff the scientists want to do to you. One of them had wanted to cut out a portion of your lung last week, to see if you had regenerative qualities. Herr Strucker had pointed out that if you didn’t, then you would be compromised. He was set on making you a field asset, apparently age was no barrier for HYDRA, and he was keeping all the really dangerous stuff at arm’s length.  
“Not at all.” He nods. 

“I also have another experiment I would like you to try.” Herr Strucker continues. “Dr Mattiss thinks your circle might have some control over electrical impulses. I agreed to test his theories if he came up with a safe way to do so.” He walks over to a stand, shrouded by a cloth. He pulls it off to show you one of those electric globes you see at science fayres, the ones that flicker with electric charge which move around the globe randomly. When you put your fingers to the glass the charge connects directly to the tips.  
“This is the solution he came up with.” Herr Strucker gestures you over and you slide off your seat and walk across the room to him.  
“What do you want me to do?”  
“First put your palm with the circle onto the glass.”  
You follow his instruction and the electric instantly starts to ground itself against your hand.  
“Now concentrate on the idea of removing all charge from you palm.”  
“How do I…?”  
“Dr Mattiss thinks you can do this instinctively.”  
“Okay, give me a minute.”  
“Take all the time you need.” 

You take a deep breath and close your eyes. You reach into your centre and listen to the deep thud within your chest. You feel your connection with the disk, to the wires inside and through your arm. They go almost to the shoulder now and your heart beat has changed slightly since the wires in your chest found their way in. It’s slower, surer and heavier. You can feel the charge of the globe as it licks against your hand, you can feel the focus of its energy. You reach out and dissipate that focus. You can tell by Herr Strucker’s gasp that you have done something cool. You open your eyes and see that the globe has gone back to random strikes at the glass again, though your palm is in full contact. Herr Strucker reaches out and touches the glass and the lightening instantly leaps towards his fingers. He pulls back again.  
“Very interesting.” He says in understatement. “Can you do it the other way? Can you increase your charge?”  
“I’ll try.” You close your eyes again and reverse the feeling in your palm. The effect is immediate and the smell of a burnt plastic assaults you nostrils.  
“Fuck.” Herr Strucker says quietly and calmly.  
You look down at the wall socket and realise you’ve completely slagged the plug and blown the fuse.  
“Shit, sorry.” You say and take your palm off the glass. Your hand feels really weird.  
“No need.” Herr Strucker sighs. “I should have been more careful. At least you didn’t damage the main electrics.”  
“I wasn’t thinking about any power source other than the globe.”  
“Then we can thank the gods for small mercies.” Herr Strucker says and you smile at his turn of phrase.  
Your hand is really tingling, you look at it as Herr Strucker is pulling out the plug and see a soft nimbus of electricity shimmer across the gold surface. 

“Hmmm…” You say thoughtfully.  
“What?” He asks.  
“Can you take a few steps back? I don’t think this is going to be bad, but I want to make sure.”  
Herr Strucker looks at you in alarm and stands. He gives you a good five feet of distance – as far as the wire from the stand can take him.  
You put your hand back against the glass and close your eyes. Okay, this is difficult, like trying to relax a really tense muscle. Natasha told you about this. The trick is to just let you mind relax first than move your concentration to the point in your body. You find your centre, breathe deeply and slowly and run your thoughts down your hand and into your palm. The release is euphoric and you exhale with quiet pleasure.  
“My god.” Herr Strucker says softly. You open your eyes and see the electrical charge alive and randomised in the globe again. Herr Strucker looks down at the plug he’s holding five feet away from the socket. You reach out with your other hand and touch the glass. The charge instantly grounds itself against your fingers.  
“Uhm, I think Dr Mattiss was right.” You say.  
You wait for the tingling in your arm to stop and then take your hands away. The globe flickers for another thirty seconds without your help and with a broken plug before losing charge and dying for the last time.  
“The power’s gone.” You say thoughtfully. “My palm feels normal again.”  
Herr Strucker goes to the table and starts scribbling furiously.  
“We will have to test this thoroughly.” He says.  
“Sure.” You agree. “Set a date.”

*

Natasha is still deeply asleep when you get back, so you go to your room and change back into some comfortable clothing. The HYDRAish uniform looks great, but really chafes in all the places you don’t want clothing to chafe. You lie back in your bed, put your hand palm up on your stomach and touch the circle with your other hand to search out your connection with Laura.

You do this almost every day, schedule allowing. Some days, you’re just too tired, others you have no privacy, especially if the scientists are on a testing phase. They like to monitor you at sleep and rest during these periods and you don’t want them getting a reading of you reaching across half the world to your sister. Way too many questions. You like talking with Laura, despite your differences. It nice to talk with someone who doesn’t have an agenda in mind for you and in all honesty you are starting to really like her. She blunt and funny and straightforward and, though she still thinks you’re some sort of servant, she understands that you share this cool and unique bond and she feels privileged by it. You know she’s told the God-King about your visits and you take his silence as approval for you to continue. 

On the day of her mother’s surgery you begged off training and spent five hours with her while she alternatively cried and talked about her memories of her mother while the God-King and Dr Bridges worked in another room. Though her mother had died on the table half-way through, the God-King had brought her back and kept her alive and the surgery had been a complete success. You shared Laura’s joy when her mother was wheeled out by Dr Bridges. A frail woman, almost completely skin and bones and with yellowish skin, but with bright, intelligent eyes and a soft, kind voice. Dr Bridges told you both, Laura and you in her head listening, that it was still touch and go, but she was optimistic with the God-King’s help. You could feel the powerful magic around the woman and you were inclined to agree with her. Laura’s mother was given the room next to her daughter and she seemed to grow stronger every day.

Other times you just sat in Laura’s head and observed what was going on. You’ve been there during dancing lessons with the God-King, read part of a book through her eyes, because she was so happy and relaxed you didn’t want to disturb her, and been there when the God-King took her on a trip in one of his flying carriages. That had been amazing and you had thrilled along with her, even as you felt intensely jealous. The God-King had sat next to her and you know he felt your presence. But he didn’t say anything and just smiled knowingly at you when Laura was distracted by the view. So he approves, kind of, probably… He said he wanted you to get to know her better and she’s so blind that it’s good that you can get in so easily. If she ever needs protection you’d know straight away and you’d drop everything to help her. She’s your sister and you love her more than you can fully express, or really understand. You’re madly protective of her. 

So the first thing you do when you make contact and feel her naked and pinned to the ground is to attack her assailant. You make your mind as thin and as sharp as a dagger and lash out, intending to seriously fuck them up. The other mind’s defences close in hard around you, pinning you, holding you and constricting. You scream and thrash like a fly in a spider’s web as the ropes tighten even further and you feel the God-King coming over to see who’s tripped his shield. He laughs his ass off when he sees it’s you.  
“Hello, child.” He says, his mind filled with mirth. “This is an unexpected visit.”  
“What are you doing to her?” You demand.  
“Loki…” She groans. “My Prince… Why have you stopped?”  
The God-King looks at her and then back at you.  
Oh great.  
“You bastard.” You snarl. “You utter, utter, bastard.”  
“Now, now. Calm yourself. I’m going to let you go and you’re going to be civil.” He tells you.  
The ropes unfurl and the sticky constriction sensation begins to fade.  
“I’m just going to go, if it’s all the same to you.” You say grumpily.  
“As you wish.” The God-King makes the mental bridge so you don’t have to and you tramp back into your own head angry and humiliated. As the God-King closes the connection you feel him bending over and Laura gives a small cry of delight.

*

You don’t know how long you train alone in your room, but you’re absolutely furious. You punch and kick and stab at the air, practicing everything Natasha’s shown you and other things besides. You know your technique’s sloppy and you stances are crap, but you just need to get the energy out.

“Child…” You spin at the God-King’s voice and you slash his hologram with your knife.  
“Fuck off.” You snap. “I am so not in the mood.”  
“So I see.” He gestures, casting a spell which rips the knife from your grasp. It flies across the room to embed itself in the mortar of the wall. You give a sharp intake of breath and put your stinging hand under your armpit. “But we will talk all the same.”  
“You finished doing her yet?” You ask angrily.  
“Yes, as a matter of fact. I finished pleasing her and then I came to talk to you.”  
“There’s nothing to talk about.” You tell him bluntly.  
“I think there is.” His voice is calm and reasonable and you hate it.  
“You fucked my sister!” You snarl.  
“She asked me to.”  
“How long? Was that the first time or…?”  
“Three times, starting this week.”  
“Fuck.” You glare at him. “You really have no shame do you?”  
“It was part of our agreement. I don’t see…”  
“She’s my fucking sister!” You shout at him. “You made her my sibling and that makes you our parent or something and that’s just… Ugh!” You want to lunge at him and only just stop yourself. “It’s just disgusting.”  
“It isn’t incest.” The God-King says, his voice laced with amusement.  
“No? No? What the fuck is it then?”  
“She loves me.” He says simply and you gape at him, momentarily speechless. 

“So you’d just think you’d take advantage of that?” You ask as soon as you get your voice back.  
“Child…” He sighs. “Your relationship with me is far, far different than my relationship with her. I only said you were siblings, because, well…” He pauses.  
“Well…?”  
“Because I was afraid you might kill her or maim her to keep your position with me.”  
You glare at him steadily.  
“Fuck you.” You say quietly. “And get out.”  
“No.”  
“Get out!” You scream at him.  
“No.”  
“Fine, then I’m leaving.” You turn and your legs seize up.  
“Majesty.” You say, your voice softer. “Don’t do this.”  
“We will talk this out now.” The God-King says. “I will draw you out of your body and take you back with me, if I have to, but we will talk this through.”  
“Fine.” You sigh. There’s no way out of this. You turn towards your chair, but your legs are still frozen. You look from your feet to the chair. “May I?”  
The God-King’s gestures and you go and sit in your seat.

“I wish I was in Natasha’s room.” You grumble. “I could really use a shot of vodka right about now.”  
“She lets you drink?” The God-King asks, concerned.  
“What, really?” You sigh. “You’re going to question drinking age limits with me now?”  
“I suppose not.”  
“Good.” You say. “Because I really like vodka.”  
“Have you got drunk yet?”  
“God, no. Believe or not I’m a responsible drinker and anyway Natasha would kick my ass. She looks the other way so long as I don’t take the piss.”  
“Sounds prudent.”  
“Yeah, well. She’s Russian. Apparently she started drinking when she was ten.”  
“And is the Black Widow going to walk in on this conversation?”  
“No. She’s ill with the flu, she’s sleeping.”  
“Ill?” And you feel his mind roaming the link between you. He laughs. “What you’re doing is very unethical. I approve.”  
“You would.” You sigh. “And it’ll make her well quicker, so…” You lean forward on the desk and place your chin on your arms. “I hate myself for doing it though.”  
“You’re growing up very quickly.” The God-King walks over and sits on the edge of the desk.  
“Well you did leave me alone – thanks for that by the way – in a mad military spy organisation, that acts like a cult and employs the actual, literal definition of mad scientists.” You sigh. “If I wasn’t making myself a hundred percent useful, Herr Strucker would have let them cut vital bits out of me and seen how I fared in a vacuum chamber. So thanks for leaving me so you could woo and fuck my sister. I really appreciate it.”  
“But at least you have your own room.” The God-King looks around with approval.  
“There’s perks to everything.” You say with sarcasm. 

You sit back and look him in the eye.  
“I’m not going to hurt her. I mean, I want to, sure. Especially when she gets all princess on me. But I’m not going to take advantage.”  
“I’m glad to hear it.”  
“She thinks I’m a servant.”  
“And aren’t you?”  
“I guess. But she doesn’t realise she’s a servant too.”  
The God-King smiles at that.  
“Have you warned her against me?” He asks.  
“Only every single time I talk to her.”  
“And she doesn’t believe you?”  
“No.” You shrug and look around aimlessly. “Natasha thinks you’re going to emotionally abuse her.”  
“She’s a very perceptive woman.”  
“Do you really need to control everyone around you?”  
“Yes.”  
“Do you have to be such a dick about it?” You ask in frustration and the God-King tilts his head and smiles.  
“I’m afraid it comes with the territory.”  
“What have you done to me?” You snap at him.  
“What have you found out?” He asks, his voice bland.  
“Fuck off.” You turn and stand and start pacing again. You’re full of nervous energy.

“I mean what’s the deal with Laura anyway? She’s magically blind, she can’t do half the stuff I’ll be able to do once I work it all out.”  
“You were a bonus. I just need a strong will and a brave soul, the rest I can put in myself.”  
“But isn’t that harder for you? More work?”  
“You’d think so, but truthfully, you’re far more of a handful than she is.” The God-King waves his hand aimlessly while he tries to find the words. “She’s just another mortal, but you, you’re far more interesting, far more fun to play with…” He trails off.  
“Harder to just fob off as another short-lived Midgardian mammal?” You stop pacing and glare at him. He looks at you with amusement.  
“Now, now. Less of the bitterness.”  
“Oh, come off it. You’ve killed like, what, a million of us now?”  
“There are seven billion of you. There are plenty to spare.”  
“Such a dick answer.” You throw your hands up in frustration.  
“But no less true.” He stands and walks up to you. “Do you have any idea what would have happened if I’d been lenient and not killed so many of you?”  
“No.”  
“Half your world would have burned.”  
You look at him and see that he’s deadly serious. You frown at him and bite your lip nervously.  
“What aren’t you telling me?” You ask.  
“More than you know the questions for. Let’s just say the gods I work for are far less forgiving than I and they demand a tribute in blood.”  
“Shit.”  
“And if you tell Natasha any of this…”  
“Don’t worry. She’s got enough on the ground to worry about.” You let out a deep breath. “And I, I don’t know how to deal with this.”  
“You don’t have to. I could take away your short term memory…”  
“Don’t you dare.” You glare up at him. “Don’t you fucking dare.”  
He smiles at you.

“So you choose to carry this burden?” He asks and you look at him sceptically.  
“That sounds like some magical shit to me.” He moves forward again and you back away. “Don’t touch me. I know you’re a hologram, but don’t touch me.”  
“As you wish.” He raises his hands in a placatory gesture. “I did not mean to threaten.”  
“Okay.” You bite your bottom lip while you think. “Thank you.”  
“For what?”  
“For letting me know this isn’t all random. I still think you’re a dick, but at least I know you’ve got your reasons.” You look at him sideways. “And you want to share, don’t you?” You smile mirthlessly. “You don’t want to carry all this stuff alone anymore.”  
“There’s a high chance you will not survive HYDRA, so yes.” The God-King smirks and shrugs. “It does not cost me much to share a little with you.”  
“Bastard.” You say and he laughs. “And stop fucking my sister.”  
“No. I think I will continue to enjoy her, as and when she wants.” You lock gazes and though you don’t back down, you know you can’t stop him. He looks away first with a contemptuous smirk on his face. “Though I’m going to ignore her for a time now. She’s inexperienced and not a little boring for me. So I’m going back to my harem.”  
“Not Mr Stark?”  
“I’m keeping her away from Mr Stark.” The God-King says. “Lest he pollute her mind like he did yours.”  
“He is a bad influence.” You admit with a smile.  
“Yes he is. And truth be told, I’m looking forward to making Laura beg me for my attentions.”  
You frown at him

“You enjoy this shit don’t you?” You say in annoyance.  
“Enjoy is the wrong word, but they please me.” He shrugs. “If I have to toughen up children, then it should at least be a little fun.”  
“And very cruel.” You say, kicking your desk for emphasis.  
“Not as cruel as if I did not.” And he statics your hair before you can back away. “In the end, you will thank me.”  
“Keep telling yourself that, Kermit.” You say and he stiffens. You think he’s about to unleash the pain but instead he throws his head back and laughs. It’s full, free laugh and you’ve never heard anything like it from him before.  
“You’re such a brave little thing.” He says finally, but you know it’s a front as he wipes away a fake hologram tear. That he wanted to say something else, but couldn’t. “I could rip your brain out from half a world away and yet you dare say that to me.”  
“I thought you didn’t want to threaten?” You say, squaring up to him and he nods.  
“I do not.” He agrees. “I think we have talked enough.”  
“We’ve certainly cleared the air between us.” You agree.  
“Continue your dialogue with Laura. I approve of the long-distance practice it gives you and she needs a confidant to talk with. She’s going through a lot at the moment and I need you to keep her sane.”  
“I’ll do my best.”  
“Thank you, child. And if we’re, well, enjoying each other’s company I shall put this rune up between your mind and hers.” He draws on the desk with his finger and it burns into the wood. “So you shall know not to disturb us and won’t be surprised again.  
“Why not just put it in my head?”  
“Professional courtesy.” The God-King says mockingly. “And because you need to start memorising runes and I want you to start with this one. There will be a test.”  
“Okay.”  
“Look after Natasha for me. I will return when she is well.”  
“I will.”  
The God-King smiles and nods in farewell. His hologram flickers and he closes the connection between you completely. Leaving you alone in your head and with a great deal to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, no quick quips today. I think I might actually be coming down with the flu myself. 
> 
> Thank you for all your wonderful comments, I will answer you all I promise - just not right now, right now I must sleep.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter.


	26. A Clash of Wills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So where are we going today?” You ask after the vodka is finished and you’re both suited up for training. Natasha eyes are back to glowing red now you’re out in public.  
> “Strucker’s busy devising half a dozen new tests for you after the trick you pulled with the globe.” Natasha smiles at you. “He thinks you have real, usable super-human qualities now. Rather than it being a theory.”  
> “And he’s going to harness them?”  
> “Sooner rather than later.” Natasha nods. “So we figured you might want to meet the rest of the team.”  
> “There’s a team?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where the kid meets the Twins for the first time and things don't go so well.  
> Strucker comes to the kid with instructions.  
> Loki brings temptation and dire news. 
> 
> Spoilers for Age of Ultron. If you haven't seen it yet, you really should, it's pretty darn good - even though Loki isn't in it.

*

“What’s this?” Natasha runs her hand over the rune burned into your desk.  
“A test from the God-King.” You say while watching her with envy. You can’t touch the rune at all, you can hardly look at it. It hurts somewhere deep inside. An aching knowledge you just can’t get your head around or understand. You’ve tried to draw the pattern, to get it properly into your memory, but the effort and energy it takes leaves you trembling and sweating before you finish the first major curve. You’ve broken two pencils and caused a pen to leak already. Who knows what would have happened to you if the God-King had placed it directly into your mind. Burnt part of it out, most probably. Yet Natasha, magic blind and curious, can trace it with her finger while not feeling a thing.  
“What kind of test?” She asks.  
“Still figuring it out.”  
“Huh.” She says unimpressed. “It’s a pretty pattern, but he could have used a pen and paper like everyone else.” She sips at her vodka and continues to explore the curves with a fixated fascination. Okay, maybe it does affect her in some strange and unknown way. You raise your glass to distract her attention.  
“To getting well in record time.” You say.  
“I’ll toast to that.” She clinks your glass and smiles. “But don’t think I don’t know you did something to help me out.”  
“I take the fifth.”  
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll take four days with the flu over ten any time. But don’t you dare pull something like that again without my permission.”  
“Understood.” You grin and take a mouthful of the cold, sweet alcohol. “Oh. Expect a visit from the God-King at some point soon.”  
“Any specific timeframe?”  
“When you’re well.” You shrug. “That’s all he said.”  
“How very unhelpful of him.” She takes another sip. “But thanks for the heads up.”  
“Sure.”

“So where are we going today?” You ask after the vodka is finished and you’re both suited up for training. Natasha eyes are back to glowing red now you’re out in public.  
“Strucker’s busy devising half a dozen new tests for you after the trick you pulled with the globe.” Natasha smiles at you. “He thinks you have real, usable super-human qualities now. Rather than it being a theory.”  
“And he’s going to harness them?”  
“Sooner rather than later.” Natasha nods. “So we figured you might want to meet the rest of the team.”  
“There’s a team?”  
“A small one, used for extenuating circumstances only, when enhancements will give the edge over experience.” She taps her head. “You’ve already viewed the handiwork of one of them.”  
“Scarlet Witch.” Your tone is low, you so want words with her.  
“Also known as Wanda Maximoff. The other member is her brother Pietro.”  
“What can he do?”  
“Code name Quicksilver.” You look at her questioningly. “He’s really fast.” She explained.  
“Great. I love being a third wheel.”  
“You’ll do fine. I’ll be watching.”  
“What are your instructions?” You ask, aware she won’t blow her cover to save your ass unless she’s been told to.  
“I intervene if they get too boisterous.”  
“What if I get too boisterous?” And you give her an evil grin.  
“Don’t do that. You look so much like him.” She says and it makes your smile falter. Shit, are you turning into the God-King? Picking up his mannerisms? You’ll have to watch out for that.  
“I’ve picked up his smile?”  
“Uh-huh. Guess you seen it too many times. Your eyes darken in the same way and everything. Keep it, it’s good and threatening, but not on me, thank you.”  
“Fair enough.” You roll your shoulders in preparation for the confrontation. “Anything I should be aware of?”  
“They’ll want you to prove yourself and they hate Tony Stark.”  
“Why?”  
“One of his missiles killed their parents.”  
“Oh.” You roll your shoulders back again. “That’s good to know.”  
“And they’ll probably fight like a unit, but you’ve probably already guessed that much.”  
“Yes. Pretty much.”  
You stop at one of the doors leading to a large indoor training area.  
“You ready?” She asks.  
“Let’s do this.” 

Pietro is stood in the centre of the room. He’s wearing sweat pants, a thin knitted jumper and he's bouncing on his toes in a pair of new trainers. He grins broadly as you walk in. Where’s Scarlet Witch? You walk towards Pietro, who’s grinning like the Cheshire cat when you feel her behind you. You spin and turn as the tendrils of red try to penetrate your mind. She reaching for your fear centre while simultaneously trying to read you. You deflect the attack and give her the memory of you crouching in the war zone while the green monster smashes a window from above. Let her think that’s your worst memory. She twitches with a smile as she accesses it, a look of victory on her face. You smile back at her and nod your head politely in greeting. Your attitude throws her, she’s expecting fear not nonchalant swagger.  
“You missed.” You tell her. “I think you were trying for this.”  
And before she can register what you’re about to do, you touch your palm to the side of her neck and return the favour. 

_You’re under a bed, your brother’s arms around you. The room is destroyed and the floor is blown in. Your parents are somewhere down in the blackness. In view, only a few feet away the missile sits – solid silver, matt and deadly. The Stark Industries logo printed clearly on the side. You can hear people moving, hear them shouting, telling you not to worry, that they are going to get you out. A hammer hits the wall and the missile shifts where the tip is buried in the ground. You close your eyes and wait for it to explode…_

Scarlet Witch backs away, holding her head in shock. You shove her hard in the chest.  
“Don’t ever try to get in my mind again.” You snarl at her and she nods in mute surprise. The next thing you know you’re on your ass, halfway across the room. Quicksilver looms over you.  
“Stay away from my sister.” He tells you and you grin at him and push yourself to your feet.  
“If she stays away from me.” You tell him and he takes a backward step, watching you as if you’re another unexploded bomb. His tall for his age and broad, Scarlet Witch is smaller and thinner, but they’re both much younger than you expected. Only a few years older than you. This is their threat level, really? Show you they have powers and expect fear and compliance just by showing off a few tricks? You put your head to one side.  
“So, running really fast? It that it?” You ask and he smiles, still bouncing on the balls of his feet.  
“You’ll never see me coming.” He says and disappears in a streak of silver to reappear behind his sister. Okay, now you understand the code name. You want to touch him, to taste his being, to understand how he does it. You realise with a start that’s exactly how the God-King would think in this situation and for a moment you feel sick. But how else are you going to deal with this? You’re outnumbered and the only way to win is through arrogant confidence – it’s the only way you know, the only way you’ve ever been shown. You loosen your stance and wait for them to come for you.

He attacks first, trying to confuse you with the silver train he leaves in his wake, touching you, pushing and laughing at you and trying to goad you into something stupid. You roll with his prods and pokes, but you don’t react. He’s fast, but he’s sloppy, cocky and overconfident. You feel his first punch before he throws it - it causes massive air turbulence, and you move out of the way. There’s a rhythm to his movements a style you can taste on the air. His second punch comes in at your mid-drift and you block it with your palm while simultaneously using the contact with the gold disk to hit him with a mental backhand which sends him spiralling away. Scarlet Witch comes to his defence and the force of the red magic spins you around. She can throw physical attacks with her mind? Shit that’s cool! Your palm tingles in anticipation and you raise your arm as she gestures and lashes out again with the red power. You think like you did with the globe, concentrate solely on the fast moving line of scarlet smoke and you palm sucks it up. You see her gasp and try to shout a warning to her brother who’s running at you again. She’s too late. You turn, levelling your arm at him and unleash the power straight into his face. He goes down hard.

“Enough!” Natasha calls out and you instantly pull back and lower your arms to your side. Scarlet Witch is slower to respond and Quicksilver picks himself up off the floor, still a little dazed. She stalks up to you and you bow your head to her.  
“What was that?” She demands.  
“I’m sorry, Black Widow, I’ve never been in combat with Enhanced before.” You say nervously. “I panicked.”  
It’s a lie, she knows it, but her lips quirk into a smile.  
“Then I’d hate to see what you’d be like if you actually meant to hurt someone.” She turns to the other two. “Sloppy, both of you. Herr Strucker told you your new sparring partner was Enhanced, but you acted as if they were a normal target. You did nothing to try and gauge their abilities before engaging.”  
“Baron Wolfgang said they could move electrical charge around. Not the energy of my powers and he didn’t mention anything about mental abilities.” Scarlet Witch says incensed and you can feel her trying to manipulate Natasha into agreeing with her.  
“Stop it!” You snap. “Have some respect for your teacher!” And again she’s so shocked you could tell what she’s doing that her powers dim instantly.  
“You expect intelligence to be exact?” Natasha asks her. “You expect enemies to show their full hand? Especially Enhanced. They always hold something back, something you aren’t expecting. You think you know everything Tony Stark could do in battle? Or Captain America?” Natasha glares at her and Scarlet Witch looks at her feet. “I’ve been training you to be better than this.”

“But none of them are as fast as me.” Quicksilver points out lazily. “And none of them can do what my sister does.”  
“Hawkeye could take you out with a single arrow.” You snap before you can help yourself. “Your movements are way too predictable. And I think I’ve just disproven your belief that only your sister has power over another person’s mind.” You turn to her. “Don’t you know what shielding is? The God-King would hear you coming from a mile away.”  
“Enough.” Natasha says gently and you go quiet. You look back at the floor in respect.  
“I’m sorry for speaking out of turn.” You answer, your voice contrite and Quicksilver laughs at you.  
“And so you should, but you’re right.” She sighs. “Loki is an Asgardian sorcerer who has spent centuries perfecting the art of playing with other people’s minds. And I have to agree about Hawkeye. He can track almost anything and work out air speed and turbulence in the moment it takes him to pull back the string. And he’s under Loki’s influence, so when we move against him, we’ll moved against Hawkeye and the Captain as well.”  
“What about Stark?” Scarlet Witch asks. “You promised him to us.”  
“If you manage to take down the God-King, Hawkeye and the Captain, then Mr Stark will not be a problem.” You say drily. “He’s in a prison cell.”  
“You know him?”  
“I’ve met him, yes.”  
“Are you friends?” Quicksilver interrupts and you look him straight in the eye.  
“No.” You say simply. He nods in satisfaction.

Wow, this lying thing is easy when the other person can’t look in your head. Or isn’t a master assassin trained to read silent queues and body language. You feel Scarlet Witch pressing against your mind and you glare at her and push her out again gently. She’s done it automatically and she blushes in embarrassment.  
“Sorry.” She says and you shrug.  
“It’s okay. If it’s any consolation you’re super-talented. I’m just better trained than you are.”  
“There hasn’t been anyone to train me.” She says, a question in her voice.  
“Maybe we can work something out.” You say graciously and she nods in agreement.  
“And you can tell us stories about Tony Stark.” Quicksilver says, smiling like a wolf. “Like if he’s been tortured.”  
“He has and I’ve seen some of it first-hand.” You tell him and his grin widens.  
“All right, kids. Enough bonding. We’re supposed to be training.” Natasha claps her hands. “I think we’ve done enough Enhanced combat for today, so normal physical training it is.”  
Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver exchange glances and you realise with a start that every time Black Widow has tried to do this before Scarlet Witch has taken control so they can bunk off while Natasha thinks they’re working. They don’t see the point of it – Quicksilver has his own weight regime and Scarlet Witch thinks her mind tricks will get her through anything. You feel the first lazy red tendrils enter the weak point in Natasha’s mind and you’re overcome with rage. You walk up smartly and punch the young woman in the face so hard she falls over.

“If you’d done your training, you’d have blocked that.” You snap at her. Quicksilver bundles you again and you let him. Natasha calls him off and takes you to task for your lack of self-control. You take your beating with a sullen grace, though not as quietly as you’d like. She pulls the punches but deliberately makes you squeal when she puts the locks on. It’s a show, you understand that, but by the time she’s finished you’re bruised and sore and half your joints have seized up. She moves away, but you don’t stand.  
“I’m sorry, teacher.” You say, bowing your head to her.  
“I know you are, now get up.”  
You stagger to your feet.  
“Apologise to you team mates.” She orders and you turn to the twins.  
“I’m sorry.” You bow stiffly to both of them. They don’t say anything in return, but watch you with hard expressions. Not a great first meeting, but then it was never going to go well.  
“Go to your room. I will be reporting this to Herr Strucker.”  
“Yes, teacher.” You bow to her as well. You glance over at Scarlet Witch and give a slight shake of your head. She looks at you uncertainly, but she knows what you mean. She won’t be messing with Black Widow’s head again this session.  
Maybe they might learn something.

*

You spend the next few hours training in your room alone to get rid of your excess emotion and tire yourself out for some sleep. Your mind’s a huge angry whirl and you know the only way you’re going to get any sleep tonight is by absolutely exhausting yourself physically. Though it’s mostly stretching rather than anything too strenuous. Natasha really messed up one of your shoulders with a harder than necessary lock and you think you’ve pulled a muscle in your calf and lower back. Still it was worth the kicking you took just to see their faces. You’d happily punch Scarlet Witch again if you got the chance.

There’s a sharp rap on your door.  
“Come in, it's open.” You call out, getting to your feet. When Herr Strucker walks in you click your heels together and stand with your hands neatly placed behind your back as if waiting for orders. It pleases him to see you trying to be so military, though you still hope he’ll never ask you to do the stupid salute.  
“Herr Strucker. You honour me with your presence.” You say with a perfectly straight face.  
“At ease, child.” He says. He’s carrying a clipboard with several pieces of paper held to it which he flicks through quickly. You nod and relax your shoulders, allowing your hands to drop to your sides.  
“Black Widow has sent me this report on your first meeting with the Twins.” He gives a small smile. “Apparently it did not go very well.”  
“We differ in opinion on several fronts, Herr Strucker.” You say firmly and he shakes his head in amusement.  
“So I gather. It has also been brought to my attention that you can work within another’s mind.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Why did you not bring this up until now?” He asks sharply.  
“I did not know I had the ability, Herr Strucker. Just as I did not know I could contain Scarlet Witch’s powers within my palm. She attacked me and I acted on instinct. It appears I have picked up some skills from when the God-King has attacked me in a similar manner.”  
“I see.” Herr Strucker flicks through the pages again.  
“You have also been charged with insubordination against your teammates.” His voice is sharp  
“I was not aware they out-ranked me Herr Strucker and I feel I must point out they attacked me first.”  
“So I am given to believe.” He sighs. “And they do not out-rank you, but this does not bode well for future skirmishes. I was hoping to use you as a team.”  
“Perhaps. Given time. This was only our first meeting, Herr Strucker.”  
“True.” He agrees. “I expect you to behave better next time and I shall be asking them the same.”  
“Of course, Herr Strucker.”  
“Tomorrow you will attend in the training room again at noon. I have put together a basic set of tests for you, which I expect you to pass. You will be given a generator for use of your abilities and you will be set targets which I expect you to achieve.” He puts the clipboard under his arm. “There will be several high-ranking HYDRA personnel watching. I expect you to perform well.”  
“I will not let you down, Herr Strucker.”  
“Good.” He nods. “Until tomorrow.”  
“Until tomorrow. Good evening, sir.” You click your heels again.  
“Good evening.” And he leaves as abruptly as he arrived. 

You sigh and sit down at your desk. You glance at the rune again, but you’re too volatile to concentrate at the minute and it just fills you with a deep sense of nausea. Maybe tomorrow. Suddenly you feel Scarlet Witch. She’s in another wing, but she’s just started talking about you with her brother and she’s broadcasting loudly. She really doesn’t understand the concept of shielding. You lean in, listening to their conversation idly and laughing at their plans to get the better of you. They aren’t planning your downfall for their own survival, just to stoke their own egos. You realise they have never had to fear HYDRA as you do. They are their experiments, their golden children. Whereas you just stumbled into their path as an interesting test subject, scarred by alien technology. They are filled with rage and hate and a need for vengeance. They sit in their little bubble world and make their plans together, not realising how small their ambitions are. They’ll never be a match for the Captain, or Hawkeye, or the God-King. Herr Strucker will never be able to use them for his conquest, not for years yet. 

“You could take her over, you know.” The God-King’s voice is soft. You turn to look at his hologram. He’s sitting on your bed with his legs crossed and his hands interlaced on his knee.  
“I thought you wanted to speak to Natasha.”  
“I did. I have. She told me about this afternoon.”  
“I’m sorry. I lost my temper. I gave myself away.” You lower your gaze, expecting punishment.  
“Don’t be. I would probably have done the same at your age.” His voice is still quiet and you look at him quizzically.  
“You’re not mad?” You ask.  
“No. So they know you have extra abilities, it hardly matters. They don’t know the extent and I know you will keep their knowledge to a minimum.”  
“You trust me now?”  
“I trust your instinct for self-preservation.”  
You sigh and look up at the ceiling.  
“This is all really hard. Can’t you just rescue me already?”  
“No. Things are more complicated than I anticipated.”  
“Aren’t they always?”  
“Often, yes. Don’t worry, the people I have contacted will take the bait eventually. But you will have to be patient.”  
“I can do patient.”  
“I know you can.” 

You’re both quiet for a while and together you listen to Scarlet Witch while she talks to her brother. You can only hear her side of the conversation, but you can guess the other side from her responses.  
“Your new teammates plan to betray you.” The God-King observes.  
“I know.” You grin. “It’s a bit pathetic really. We could work so well together, but they’re caught up in their own world.”  
“She really doesn’t understand does she?” The God-King returns your smile. “That because she has power, she has to cover herself better. Normal humans close in on themselves because they don’t understand how to reach out. It gives them a modicum of natural shielding. But she’s broadcasting on a loud frequency without even knowing she’s doing it.”  
“Now they’re talking about me she’s zoning in on me, making a connection, like placing a wrong number.”  
“It would be so easy for you to just reach out and take her will as your own.” The God-King says speculatively.  
“Yes, it would.” You agree.  
“And after what she did to Natasha, perhaps she does not deserve free reign of her powers.”  
“It’s tempting. To take them both down and make them grow up a bit.” You look at him. “But I’m not going to do it.”  
The God-King looks at you sternly.

“This is not about morals, child. This is about survival.”  
“No it isn’t. I’m stronger than she is. I can hold her off easily”  
“For now, but you know she has more talent. She will surpass you eventually.”  
“And hopefully by then I’ll be out of here.”  
“You can’t rely on that. But you can rely on restraints you put in yourself while she’s still finding her power.”  
“No.”  
“Child…”  
“No. I won’t be you.” You say and his face creases in annoyance.  
“Then you are a fool. If you control her, it would be an easy thing to control her brother as well. You could manipulate them subtly, make them into the team you need, the team which HYDRA needs.”  
“That you could take over whenever you wanted. I’m not doing it. I’m not adding to your power base.”  
“You think I could not do it?”  
“Not from this distance. It requires subtly and you can only do that up close and personal.” You think about it. “Or at least within a few hundred miles, certainly not from here.”  
The God-King scowls.  
“I’m not giving you more kids to play with. More innocent minds to abuse. No, it’s not happening.” You look down at your hands. “Beside if she works it out she’ll be able to go through our bond and she’ll find out about Laura.”  
“I won’t allow that to happen.”  
“You can’t defend her. You’d have to cut me off from my sister as well and that would mess with the magic you’ve already cast. And you want me to stay in touch with her, since you’re playing mind games which might break her if you get it wrong. Laura’s more important to me than two kids playing grown-up.” You clench your fists. “And I am not letting that little Witch get into my brain and see the golden threads that connect me and Natasha. That just isn’t going to happen. Right now she doesn’t know what to look for, but if I make a bond with her and she realises…”  
“You’ve thought about this a lot.” The God-King says. He sounds surprised.  
“Since I found out about her and what she did to Natasha. Yes. Trust me, I don’t like her and I want bring her down a peg or two. And I will. But in my own way and in my own time.”  
“Very well, I shall abide by your decision for now. But if she comes within range I will bind her to me and enslave them both.” He lets out a deep breath. “And if I think it necessary I will force your hand to do it for me.”  
You don’t ask him how he would achieve it. It’s enough to know he could.  
“Thank you for the warning, Majesty.”  
“Because I like you, child.”  
You look at him and return his smile, even if you don’t feel it. 

“I actually came to give you another warning.” The God-King says, he lifts his hand and looks at his fingernails as he speaks, all casual nonchalance.  
“Oh?”  
“Tomorrow Herr Strucker plans to make you kill someone.” He says and your stomach turns to ice.  
“Who?” You demand and he shrugs.  
“No one you know. A faceless living body with a black cloth bag over their face. He will order you to draw lightening from the generator and end their life. It will be your final test.”  
“And if I don’t do it?”  
“He will put a bullet in your brain.” The God-King pauses. “If you are lucky.”  
“Shit.”

“Can you do it?” He sound genuinely curious.  
“I don’t know.”  
“If you need me, call.” And the connection is back in your head as if it had never gone away. “I will be listening.”  
“Thank you, Majesty.”  
“But know that this is a test in itself. If you call me, you will have failed.”  
“So no pressure, then?”  
“No pressure.” The God-King smiles his darkest smile. “But know your life hangs in the balance.”  
“I’m glad you care enough to warn me.” You say, your voice bleak.  
“Natasha doesn’t know. She will be at the meeting to watch the proceedings. It will be a test of her loyalty as well.”  
“She’ll pass.” You move your bad shoulder and wince.  
“Of that I have no doubt.” The God-King nods. “She gave up her weakness long ago.”  
“Will the Twins be there?” You ask.  
“I do not think so. Strucker is still coddling them. He is proud of his creations.”  
“Are you proud of me?” You ask softly, suddenly desperate to know. The God-King looks at you sadly.  
“Such a hopeless question.” He says, his tone gently chiding. “But yes, I am impressed you have made it this far.”  
“Impressed is not the same as proud.”  
“Strucker’s pride is his own hubris. He is not proud of the Twins, but in his own ingenuity. I am impressed by you. By your strength, by your cunning, by your intelligence.” He reaches forward to cup your head in his illusionary hand. “Very few mortals impress me.”  
You think you’re going to cry.

The God-King drops his hand and stands up briskly.  
“I will leave you now. So that you may consider my words and make your plans for tomorrow.”  
“I don’t want to kill anyone.” You say to him, almost begging.  
“You do have a choice.” He points out and you sigh helplessly.  
“I don’t want to die.”  
“But that is your only other choice.” He bends over and kisses your forehead, a soft tingle of static. “Not the best of options, but the only two you have.”  
“So you won’t kill them for me?” It’s your last hope, a tenuous third option.  
“I will make it easier for you, if you ask. But no, you must do this yourself.”  
“Okay.” Your voice is breaking. “Okay.”  
“Until tomorrow, child.”  
“Wait.”  
He looks at you expectantly. You get on the bed and lie down, pulling the blanket around your shoulders.  
“Will you make me sleep? I won’t be able to, but I need a clear head for what I have to do. So I make the right decision.”  
The God-King laughs gently.  
“Very well, child. Close your eyes.”  
You feel the static touch in your hair and hear his words as he casts the spell. By the time he grows quiet, you’re already drifting away into a peaceful rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still bleh, but at least I can type in bed. So the up-dates will still be coming. 
> 
> Rock and a hard place doesn't quite cut where the kid is now.  
> I almost feel sorry for them, but I promised no easy rides at the start of this fic and I'm sticking to it.
> 
> I also promise I will answer your comments tomorrow, even if I don't update. 
> 
> Talk to all you lovely people soon.


	27. Death and Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You take in as much as you can until you can’t keep your arm still, it’s so full of electrical charge. You move away from the generator with your muscles twitching spasmodically.   
> “Now destroy the targets.”   
> Three targets spring up from the back of the room, about ten feet from where you’re stood. You raise your arm, steady it by putting your other arm underneath and unleash the power at the first target. The backlash knocks you from your feet and crisps all three of the targets in one long line of death. You blacken the back wall as the charge comes out in one massive stream of electrical energy. You cry out as you hit the floor, the release beyond anything you’ve ever experienced before, the relief of loosing the charge from you palm is almost pleasurable. There’s a lot of angry murmuring from the crowd, but the God-King has gone very quiet in your head. There’s a deathly silence to him as if he can’t believe what he is seeing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where the kid works out that they do have Enhanced abilities, like, for sure.  
> Where Loki takes the kid through another trip in his memories and makes a few confessions.
> 
> Trigger warning: As the chapter says, there is death and confessions in this chapter, so be ready people.

*

Your heart is pumping and you can’t make it slow down. You feel near constantly out of breath, like you’ve been running and haven’t had the chance to rest. There are six HYDRA guards around you, in full combat gear, escorting you to the meeting with Herr Strucker and all the other dignitaries and you still don’t know what you’re going to do. The God-King’s present as well, sitting in your head but not saying anything at all, watching the show with an anthropologist’s interest. He’s not going to help you, he made it clear again when you woke up. He’s going to watch to see what you can do and what you’ve learned but if you earn a bullet he’s not going to intervene. He’ll let you die. You’re terrified and excited and filled to the brim with adrenaline. You just want it all to be over.

It’s being held in the same training room as yesterday but it seems so much smaller with the seated audience watching and with all the guards standing off to the edges. There’s a small generator sitting in the main space and half a dozen grounding rods around the dignitaries, in case you decide to do something stupid.   
“They really think you’re by yourself, don’t they?” The God-King says as you’re marched to the front of the audience so they can get a good look at you.   
“What do you mean?” You ask. You click you heels and bow deeply as Herr Strucker comes to the front and begins his speech. He’s outlining all your different theorised abilities and you want to listen, but you can’t really concentrate. If they give an order you’ll try to do it, otherwise your mind’s a strange and frightened blur.  
“All the great and good in one hall, and not a single one is hiding their identity.” The God-King tells you. “Do you know I speak with most of these people through conference calls nearly every day? They blank their faces and electronically hide their voices so I don’t know who they are. I only deal directly with Strucker. Look around for me, will you? So I can match names and titles with faces.”   
You let your gaze roam the crowd, you can tell the important people from their bodyguards by their uniforms and general demeanour. The God-King quietly makes notes as you do so. You see Black Widow off to one side and she inclines her head at you in greeting. You smile nervously back. 

“Show them your palm, child.” Herr Strucker orders you and you raise your hand for everyone to see.   
“This is some sort of conductive energy apparatus.” He continues. “By touching a source of power to the circle on their hand the child can pull energy into their arm, through the wire construct explained in your briefing notes, and hold it within themselves for an, as yet, undefined period of time. Observe.”   
The globe is brought out and you replicate the tests Herr Strucker gave you before. Reducing your charge to zero so that you don’t ground the electricity at all and then drawing it out and running the globe with the power in your hand. This time you don’t destroy the plug and Herr Strucker turns off the device instead. You’re already beginning to refine your abilities with the same determined skill you had used to learn how to balance the knife. You’ve spent half the morning taking the power from the lightbulb in your desk lamp and returning it in practice for this afternoon. The globe is about the same level of difficulty. There’s a murmur of approval through the audience. 

“This can also be applied to Enhanced abilities.” The lights dim and a projector starts up. You watch your footage from yesterday with surprise, you hadn’t realised the session had been recorded. The God-King watches the demonstration of your short combat with the Twins intently. He laughs when you put Quicksilver on his ass with Scarlet Witch’s power.   
“Clever.” He comments. “Very intuitive.”   
That moment is rewound and played slowly frame by frame so that the take up of the red energy is shown in minutiae, as is the way you launch it out again at Quicksilver. Then it is played again with half a dozen different reading going off underneath, catching gamma radiation bursts, electrical impulses and several types of spectrum analysis. None of it makes any sense to you but the God-King is entranced.   
“So very elegant in application as well.” He says. “A warrior should all acquit themselves with grace and poise, whether in victory or defeat.”  
“I’m glad you like it.” You say, pleased by his reaction. “What do the readouts say?”  
“Not much, they’re collating the wrong information. But it’s interesting all the same.”

The generator starts up and you jump at the new noise.  
“And now the child will prove if they have worth in the ranks of HYDRA.” Herr Strucker says. He turns to you and gestures to the generator. “Go on child, take as much energy as you can.”   
You blink and nod, glancing at all the watching faces. You’re not sure where to touch the generator as you walk up to it, but decide it doesn’t really matter, so long as you make contact. You press your palm against the orange plastic and close your eyes. This is so much more than the globe or a light bulb, you can feel the surge of the AC as the generator vibrates and roars under your hand. But still you’re confident you can do it. As you open yourself up to the charge you’re aware of the God-King sitting behind you assessing how you are making this possible. The electricity hits and you stagger, catching yourself against the hull with a gasp of surprise. This is way more powerful. You take a deep breath, do your best to still your mind and continue to draw charge from the machine. Your life depends on this demonstration, you can’t back out now. 

You take in as much as you can until you can’t keep your arm still, it’s so full of electrical charge. You move away from the generator with your muscles twitching spasmodically.   
“Now destroy the targets.”   
Three targets spring up from the back of the room, about ten feet from where you’re stood. You raise your arm, steady it by putting your other arm underneath and unleash the power at the first target. The backlash knocks you from your feet and crisps all three of the targets in one long line of death. You blacken the back wall as the charge comes out in one massive stream of electrical energy. You cry out as you hit the floor, the release beyond anything you’ve ever experienced before, the relief of loosing the charge from you palm is almost pleasurable. There’s a lot of angry murmuring from the crowd, but the God-King has gone very quiet in your head. There’s a deathly silence to him as if he can’t believe what he is seeing.

“I will never be a threat to you, Majesty.” You whisper to reassure him. “I will use this power however you deem fit.”   
“Will you now?” His voice is flat and frightening. You’re an even bigger threat to him now than when he discovered you could track him. But you can’t spend any time talking with him because Herr Strucker is walking up to you and ordering you to take in another charge. You stand up, bow to him, walk over to the generator and draw another large blast of power into your arm.  
“And now the test of loyalty.” He tells the assembled crowd and you hold your breath in fear. This is the moment. This is where you find out whether you have the strength to kill another person. 

They wheel him out in a chair, his arms strapped to the arm rests, his legs clamped with one big band of metal over the lower calves. He has a bag over his head and wears the prison fatigues you were given that first day.   
“This man is a traitor to our cause. You will kill him with your power.” Herr Strucker tells you and you bow stiffly to him. The God-King watches with silent interest as you raise your arm again and then stop.   
“No.” You say softly. “This is not efficient. I haven’t practiced this properly and I might not hit the target from here. I have enough charge to kill, but only enough.” You look down at your feet and then to Herr Strucker. “With your permission I would like to touch him and then unleash my power.”   
Herr Strucker glances at the audience and then nods to you.  
“And I would like you to take the bag off his head.” You add, seemingly as an afterthought.  
“Why?”  
“I have never killed before. I would like to look him in the eye.”   
There’s a vague murmur of approval from the audience and a guard steps up and removes the bag from the man’s face. 

“What are you doing, child?” The God-King asks. “What is your ploy?”   
“I have to kill today.” You tell him as you wait for the guards to move away again. “If HYDRA don’t get me, then you will and I need to show you that I am still loyal to you, no matter what I say to the watching crowd.”   
“Are you still loyal to me?” The God-King asks.  
“Yes.”  
“Why?”   
Herr Strucker gestures and you walk towards the beaten man in the chair.   
“Because you are my only chance of survival. You might kill me, if it suits your purpose, but you might not ever reach that point. Here I’m dead, it’s just a matter of time. If everything goes wrong, they’ll dissect me for what I have inside. If everything goes well, they’ll put me in the field with the Twins and they’ll either deliberately or accidently get me killed.”  
“So it is base pragmatism?” The God-King sounds amused.  
“Mostly. But you can teach me things as well. Here it’s all supposition and theories, with you it’s cold hard fact.” You pause and smile. “If you ever feel like telling me anything.”   
The man in the chair thinks you’re smiling at him and watches with frightened trepidation.   
“So there is no emotional attachment between you and I? You only think in cold hard terms of survival?”  
“You know that isn’t true. I feel a lot towards you, but it’s all one big contradictory tangle. So I thought I’d stick to the truth. I owe you that much.”  
“A noble sentiment.” The God-King agrees.  
You can’t tell whether he’s being sarcastic or not. 

“So what is your ploy? How do you plan to prove your loyalty to me so I will not kill you?” He asks.  
“If this man is a traitor. That means he knows stuff about HYDRA you might want. I can feel that Scarlet Witch has messed with this guy already. If I go in she’ll know and her attention is going to be completely on me while I fry him. Which means she’s distracted and his mind will be completely open for you to go in and have a look around.”  
“So you want me to go into the mind of a dying man? I think not.”   
“I won’t kill him until you’re out. You’ll get maybe ten seconds while I engage him in conversation, another ten where I can legitimately hesitate and a further ten from once I start. So around thirty seconds in total from when I touch him. You think you can make use of that time?”   
The God-King considers.  
“Yes.” He says after only a very small pause.   
“And I’ll let you into his mind through contact with my palm.” 

You walk up to the man and put your hand on his shoulder. The God-King drives a sliver of pain through your mind and then disappears out through the open connection. The sliver presses against the deepest part of your being – if you try to betray him, he will drive it in and kill you. So much for trust. You smile encouragingly at the man again.   
“What is your name?” You ask him and you feel Scarlet Witch pressing against your shields, checking for any sign of mind reading.   
“Ilya.” The man says quietly, his voice pleading.  
“And you know why you are here?” You ask.  
“Yes. I fucked up.” He smiles weakly and you get a flash of his capture as the God-King rides his surface thoughts to reach the right memory and then digs in to find what he needs. “And so I am now a test subject.”   
“I’m sorry I have to do this, Ilya. I will do my best to make it quick.”   
“Will it hurt?” He asks.  
“Yes.” You say. “This is new to me, I can’t control it well enough to lessen the pain you will feel.”  
The man closes his eyes and shivers.  
“Well, thank you for your honesty.”  
“Child, enough. Begin.” Herr Strucker commands and you nod your head. Shit, you were hoping for longer than this.  
You make a show to taking several deep breaths and the tears that start to fall are not an act. Ilya is crying too, waiting for the end with only the smallest shred of dignity. 

You start slowly, only letting a small tingle of power out. It takes all your concentration to control such a huge welling of power with such precision. Ilya cries out as he feels it and the sliver of pain presses warningly against your mind.   
Come on, Majesty. You don’t have much time left. You quietly begin to count down from ten in your mind.  
“Child.” Herr Strucker says angrily and you raise your other hand to stall him.   
“This is difficult. Do you want the body to explode?” You ask him. “Because if not, I have to judge this just right.”   
Ilya whimpers and tenses in his bonds, trying to break them through sheer will alone.  
“I’m sorry.” You tell him and then the God-King is back in your mind.  
“Do it.” He says and you unleash the eager power from your palm, driving it first into his brain to kill the man and then pulsing it down further to kill the body. Ilya doesn’t even get the chance to scream he dies so quickly. You feel the God-King’s approval.  
“A very clean kill.” He tells you as he removes the sliver from your mind. “A swift execution is the most merciful.” But you take no comfort from his words.

The tears are streaming down you face as you fall to your knees. You no longer have the strength to stand and in a moment of pure unadulterated rage you ground the rest of the power into the stone slabs on the floor. The surface blackens and cracks and little tails of electricity bounce and flicker harmlessly around your body making your arm and leg hair stand on end. The pain and agony of what you have just done surges through you and you almost scream to voice how you feel. The God-King reaches in and silences you.  
“No weakness.” He says as he closes your vocal chords against the howl in your lungs. You cry out silently, shaking your head as you let the emotion out while the God-King keeps you mute. Then the moment is passed and you sag to the floor. Your head is swimming. The God-King releases his hold and you gasp out into the sudden silence of the training room.  
“Hail HYDRA.” You announce to the world at large and then you pass out.

*

You come around to the sound of a crackling fire. It’s night and the air is pure and sweet. It smells of earth and smoke and the strange bright smell of a clear night sky. You pull yourself to your knees and look up at the beautiful stars. It’s so cluttered, not just a few constellations but a light show made up of millions of tiny white pin pricks. You can’t look away, you’ve never seen anything like it.  
“Welcome to Vanaheim.” You turn at the voice of the God-King. He’s wearing traveling clothes, leather trousers, sturdy boots and a fine wool tunic, but without any of his jewellery or accoutrements. He has a dark half-cape pushed over one shoulder and a bag with the long strap slung across his chest. He has two daggers in a twin sheathe on his hip and another in his boot. You’re dressed pretty much the same, without the bag and only one dagger on your belt. It’s the old one you left behind at the Empire State. You pull it out and admire it, running your fingers over the emeralds. The weight is as perfect as your remember it, you miss this blade so much.

The God-King’s putting logs on a burning fire in a stone pit and carefully poking at the ashes with a thin branch of wood, coaxing the heat and the flames to the correct temperature. Over the fire is a haunch of meat, sizzling as the skin begins to crisp. He reaches into the bag and pulls out a small cloth pouch. He takes a pinch of whatever’s in there and sprinkles it on to the cooking meat.   
“Another dream?” You ask.  
“Another memory.” He nods in satisfaction and moves away from the flames to sit a good distance from you while still enjoying the heat of the firepit. You realise he’s giving you space to put you at ease. You’re tense and nervous and afraid, filled with grief and guilt from what you just did. You don’t need this as well.   
“Why have you brought me here?” You demand and he arches an eyebrow. You look away in submission, you don’t want him to hurt you.   
“Because this might be the only true conversation we can ever have and I wanted to talk to you in a soothing environment. They have left me, child, so that I might speak with you alone during such a big and traumatic milestone in your life.”   
“Who?”  
“Who do you think?” He asks and you look at him closely. He seems different, not smaller, not kinder, but different. More open perhaps, more relaxed as if he no longer has a burden to carry. What was the name he used before in Stark Tower? The one he hated more than his brother and his father?   
“Thanos.” You say quietly and he inclines his head.  
“He sits in my mind as I sit in yours. Not always, but often enough. Watching, calculating, ready to bring me to task if it seems I am defying him.”   
“But now we are alone?” You glance around the clearing. It’s an instinctive reaction and you know it’s stupid. The monster who controls the God-King would not just appear like that, but you’re only human. How else are you supposed to react to this news?   
“We’re alone.” The God-King agrees.

“So, what happens now?” You ask, accepting this turn of events as calmly as you can and he gives you a tight, slightly sad smile.  
“How I wish I had met you a century ago, child. So bright, so accepting and so unfazed by any new situation. The fun we might have had, the mischief we could have concocted together.” His tone is so different, so young and wistful. He sighs and looks up at the sky.   
“I though you hated mortals?” You say and he shakes his head without looking at you.  
“The normal stock of your Realm? Maybe. But not the gifted. You’re not the first mortal I have taken under my wing. Midgardian magicians burn with so much potential, the few I have met in my life time, and you are so very few, so very rare, have always been worth my while.”   
“And did you have, uh, relationships with them?”  
No. Never.” He looks at you and then back up at the sky. “Oh, I have taken mortal lovers, but short liaisons, nothing more. A gifted mortal gives so much more, a deep and personal friendship I would never confuse with such foolishness. You feel emotion so much fiercer than we do, fight so much harder, find meaning in every moment. Your magic has so much vitality, so much life. I out-lived them all, but I felt privileged to know them.”  
You give yourself a moment to digest this news. You wonder if you would feel jealous or relieved that you were not the first. That he’s done this to other people before you. 

“How many?” You ask eventually and he smiles at you knowingly.   
“One, in my youth, before father forbade our trips to Midgard.” He stretches and moves to allow the heat of the fire to warm his other side. “And then another four after, centuries apart, once I learned how to shield them from his and Heimdall’s gaze. There were others as well, but more casual acquaintances, only those five ever joined me in my travels. They would sleep in a room in my wing of the palace and accompany me to see other worlds and realms. It is so easy to become jaded, to grow bored and no longer see the beauty of the world.” He lies back to look at the stars. “I would re-experience old sights with new eyes and with new enthusiasm. I would teach them the magic they had in their veins and in return they would show me new tricks, new ways of interpreting old spells. Your kind are so inventive, so fun to be around. So dreadfully imaginative.” He grins jauntily, mischief clear on his face.   
“So you kept us as pets?” You ask, frightened at the idea of being locked away in a palace, waiting for your kidnapper to come and take you away.  
“No. No.” He waves your fears away. “They could leave whenever they wanted. They could walk the breadth of Asgard, so long as they did not call attention to themselves. If father found out…” He shivers slightly. “But that was part of the fun, part of the risk. The guards did not care about their comings and goings so long as I gave permission and mother was always just delighted that I had any friends at all. She accepted my word they were from Vanaheim and never questioned it.” He glances at you and sighs. “And I never gave a single one of them any reason to fear me.”   
You look down at your feet and don’t say anything. 

“Come one, child.” He urges gently. “Say something.”  
“We any of them like me?” You ask. “Children, I mean?”  
“No. Not one. They were young, in their second or third decade and aware that they were different from those around them. Different enough to draw my attention. We met as equals and adventured as adults.”  
“But you weren’t equals.” You say to him and he shrugs.   
“Our relationship was a little uneven, yes. But that was factored in, it was understood. I never took advantage.”   
And that is when you start to cry. The God-King stands and goes to the fire. He turns the spit and checks the flames as if he’s embarrassed.   
“I fear you so much.” You confess into your knees. You can’t look at him. “I’m so scared of you. Every day I wake up, every single day and I wonder, is this it? Is this the day he kills me?” You pull your knees tighter into your chest. “Is this the day I accidently push him too far or he forgets for a moment how much stronger he is or…” You swallow down the sobs. “Or will he just decide he’s had enough, that I’m too slow, or too disloyal or learning too quickly…” You glance around the clearing again, but this time you’re looking for an escape. “The day he decides I’m not worth the effort to keep around anymore.” 

The God-King straightens and walks over and you scramble to your feet to run from him. But where will you go? This is his memory, his dream. You’re trapped here. In your moment of indecision he catches your arm and your chance, if you ever had one, is gone.  
“Please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry I spoke out of turn. Please don’t kill me. Please, please, please.”  
He draws you close and you hug him tightly, bawling like a babe.   
“I’m sorry.” He says gently, running his fingers through your hair. “I’m sorry I found you. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry we couldn’t meet in better times.”  
“Please…”  
“And I will hurt you again, I cannot show you mercy. They think I have chosen you as a pet, something to play with as they play with me. I am not the first they have taken in this way. Thanos has many children and all of them are…” He sighs and strokes you cheek, making you look up at him. “It doesn’t matter. All you need know is you are precious to me. I will threaten to kill you every day, but I will not mean it. It is all a show. If they thought for a moment you were more than just a fun distraction they would take you from me. Do you understand?”   
“I think, I think so…” You hiccup and he smiles at you fondly.   
“Oh, to have met you a century ago.” He breathes out slowly and kisses you on the top of your head.

You pull away from him and he allows it, watching as you move to the fire and the joint of meat on the spit.   
“I’ve never eaten meat like this before.” You say. He walks over and crouches by the fire, as relieved as you are to change the conversation.   
“You have to get the flames just right, focus the heat in such a way that it cooks through the flesh, but doesn’t burn it. Nor should you turn it constantly, otherwise the flame will not penetrate properly. You have to change it every now and again to make the cooking even.”  
“You know how to build a fire?”  
“Yes.”  
“But you’re like some alien from a high tech culture…”  
“A culture which values a lot of basic knowledge, as a way to prove our worth and our valour. I know how to ride a horse for example or how to skin an animal. Learning how to make a fire is a basic necessity when camping and nothing quite beats the heat, smell and sound of a roaring hearth.   
“You know how to pitch a tent?”  
“We aren’t quite that backward.” He laughs and pulls a small square of metal from his bag. “Here, this is where a travelling noble sleeps during the night.” He depresses a switch and then throws it about ten feet away into the grass. You watch with fascination as the square unpacks into a rectangle just a little bigger than the size of a single bed. Small, squat feet push it from the ground until a man could sit on the edge comfortably and a thin antenna unfurls up at the head of the bed. It begins make a humming noise which fills your mind sweetly as it activates a golden light. The light covers the whole bed frame, making a taut sheet on which to lie and the antenna throws out a soft half sphere of light that touches all the corners and drapes like a canopy.  
“All adventurers carry one of these. Except for the fools who like to sleep in a cloak on the floor.”

You walk forward and after glancing at him for permission you touch the drape of golden light. It’s soft against your hands, like silk and you can lift it easily from the bed frame. You press your fingers to the taut sheet of light and find it yields to your touch. You crawl on and the mesh holds you comfortably. As you get onto the bed the canopy closes behind you and you almost panic, but the God-King catches it and lifts it before sitting beside you on the bed.   
“The light protects against the weather and keeps the space at an ambient temperature. Your weapons are secured here, within easy reach…” He shows you a slot by the bed for his blades. “…In case you are woken to an ambush and you can see and hear everything that goes on outside without any impediment.”  
“It’s really pretty.” You tell him.  
“All Asgardian technology is pretty.” He says.   
You glance down at the palm of your hand. 

“Is this Asgardian technology?” You ask.  
“Yes.” He grimaces. “Though highly illegal and experimental.”   
“So all the wires in me are pretty?” You ask.  
“An elegant mix of gold and silver colouration.” He agrees with a sardonic smile.   
“Why did you do this to me?” You ask looking at him for answers.   
“Because, when the time comes, you will be an asset in my war.”   
“The war against Midgard?”  
“No.”  
You look at him, searching his face. Suddenly everything is clear.  
“Against your secret war against Thanos.” You say. “When you manage to stop him and reclaim your freedom.”   
“Yes.”   
“But why didn’t you…?” You stop and bite your lip. “Because he’s always in your head, listening. So you couldn’t tell me, or anyone.”   
“Correct again.”   
“But won’t he just go into your mind and find these memories?”   
“No. I have enough power left to hold some parts of my mind to myself and he accepts it, to a small extent. So long as I do not push him or defy him I am allowed a little autonomy. Just as I am kind to you when I enter your mind, so is he kind to me. Because he needs me. For now.”  
“But why didn’t you just force me to take the circle? Why did you bargain with me?”  
“Because it is banned technology. I stole these from my father’s vaults, the few left in existence. They still have the trial magic woven into them. To use them I must have your consent, there must be a contract between us.”   
“Oh.” You look down at your palm. “But you didn’t tell me that…”  
“I didn’t have to. I just had to have your agreement. You gave me your life, to do with as I wished. That is consent enough.”   
“Has anyone told you you’re a real dick?” You say and he laughs.   
“It has been known.” He admits. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Please let me put highly illegal and experimental technology into your hand and body, so that when the time is right I can defeat my master, who’s listening into this conversation right now, and save the universe from his terrible plan?”   
“I guess not.” You frown and turn your palm so the circle shimmers in the firelight.  
“How’s the meat coming along?” You ask him.  
“Ah. Yes.” And the God-King gets up to see to it.

You slip off the bed and start to walk around the clearing. You know there isn’t anywhere to go, but you need to look anyway and you need to keep moving.   
“You can’t leave.” The God-King says as he adds more of the seasoning to the meat.   
“I know. I just…” You sigh. “Majesty?”  
“Yes, child?”  
“I just killed a man. He’s name was Ilya and he begged me. But I looked him in the eye, I told him I was sorry and I did it anyway.”  
“And how does it make you feel?” The God-King asks carefully.   
“Guilty, sick, angry…”  
“Angry?”  
“That I was placed in such a position. It was me or him. And if I chose not to it wouldn’t have mattered, they would have just killed both of us instead.”  
“Angry at me, or angry at Strucker?”  
“Both.” You say and the God-King smiles.   
“And I get you couldn’t help me, Thanos probably forbade it, right?” You say, looking at him sideways.  
“It was as much a test of my obedience as yours.” The God-King’s smile fades. “He enjoys his little tortures.”  
“But he let us come here? Alone?”  
“A first kill is always a tricky time, especially if it is murder. Some like it too much, some feel extreme, suicidal remorse, other’s cope but never forgive themselves and a hundred other reactions between. I had to know how you would respond and I needed to bring you back if you lost your mind. I also longed to do this tender duty alone. I begged my master for this time and I will pay for it later.”  
“Why risk yourself like that?”  
“Child, if we live through this, I will owe you a great debt for what I have done to you. This is a small repayment.”   
You look at him in disbelief.

“Don’t give me that.” You say finally.   
“I know you have absolutely no reason to trust me, but this, at least, is the truth.” The God-King turns the meat again. “And Ilya was not your first kill.”   
“What?”  
“The woman in the ruins…”  
“The one you made me put the sedative into?”  
“Yes.”  
“I thought you were lying.” Tears spring to your eyes. “I though she lived and you were just messing with me.”   
“No. The sedative killed her. But it was a peaceful death.”   
“But why?” You demand.  
“Because of who I have to be, who I will be once this conversation is over. I want to be your friend child, more than anything. But we cannot be friends, we can only be secret allies.” He looks at you speculatively. “If you wish to shoulder that burden.”   
“And Thanos doesn’t suspect?”  
“Why would he? You’re fourteen, you’re a babe in arms. Why would I bother to make an alliance with such a weak and inexperienced young thing? He watches me closely with the other warriors of your Realm and it is only quick talking on my part which stops him suspecting what Tony is doing for me. But you? You’re just my plaything and I don’t want to break you just yet.” The God-King moves a few of the logs on the fire again to re-channel the heat. “It’s a view Thanos can understand, respect even. We all need small allowances to stay sane and you and Laura are mine.” He cuts the meat with one of his daggers, pushes it in deeply and then pulls it out clean. He wipes the blade with a piece of cloth and pulls two small wooden saucers from his bag.   
“Now come here and eat.”

You eat in silence, the only time you break it is to ask for seconds. The meat is fine and tender, some sort of strongly flavoured game animal and the seasoning is perfect.   
“Majesty?” You ask as you pass him the empty plate.  
“Yes, child?”  
“I didn’t like it. Killing I mean.”   
“I know.” He wipes the plate clean with a careful round wipe of the cloth and then returns it to his bag.  
“I won’t ever like it. Or get used to it.”   
“Because you are a sensitive child. I call it weakness, any Asgardian warrior would too. But you are too young for this and no warrior.” The God-King sighs. “I have stolen your childhood, what little a mortal gets to enjoy.”   
“I might never forgive you for that.” You say firmly.   
“Nor would I ask you to.”  
You go quiet again.

“Majesty?”  
“Yes?”  
“What was your first kill like?”   
He sits back and looks at you.  
“It was so long ago, I cannot remember.” He says vaguely.  
“Liar.” You grin at him and he raises his hands in capitulation.   
“Very well the first man I killed, I did not know he was even a man. He was a shape-shifter, an otter. I killed him for his pelt.”  
“Oh.” You think about it. “That’s a bit weird.”  
“It’s in your legends, look it up one day.” The God-King looks away. “I paid heavily for it and lost my first mortal friend because of it.”  
“What happened?”  
“He was a warrior, but a gentle soul all the same. My mother taught him how to speak with the birds. But the consequences I set in motion when I killed the shifter changed him forever.” He shrugs in a self-deprecating manner. “It was when I realised what being a god actually meant. You have to be careful, because mortal life is fragile and your kind can be very foolish if you give them power before they are ready.”  
“But he was your first mortal friend?”  
“Yes.”  
“So you were still relatively young?”  
“I have learned a lot since then.”  
“I hope so. I hate you and I can’t trust you, but I have to depend on you.”  
“I know. The fates can be cruel.” His lips twist into a sardonic smile.  
You stand and go to look at the bed again. This was your life now, this was your reality. Powerful aliens who make beautiful things, but are more than little crazy because of it. Someone who can live five thousand years and can take on mortals like they were pets. Because you are a pet and if this ends you’ll never be his equal, not if you live a whole century.

“Majesty?”  
“What is it now, child?” But his tone is patient so you press on.   
“Will you take me to Asgard when this is over?”  
The God-King sighs.  
“No. No matter what I do now my king, my father, will consider me a war criminal for my actions here.”   
“Oh.” You think about it. “But won’t you be able to plead your case at the trial?”  
“There will be no trial.”   
“Oh.” You let that sink in. “That’s pretty harsh and illegal.”  
“Not on Asgard. He’s king, remember?”   
“Oh.”  
“Oh, indeed.”  
“Not even if you stop Thanos and save the universe?”  
“If I actually manage to save the universe, then the threat will never reach Asgard and so they will not believe me. The Realm Eternal is pretty self-centred in that regard.”  
“But your brother’s here right? He’ll be able to back you up.”  
“My brother has seen nothing of Thanos. He thinks I bought the Chitauri with the promise of the Tesseract and I plan to lay siege to Midgard in a petty attempt to get even with him as a practice run before I turn my wrath on Asgard.”  
“Oh. So… You’re pretty screwed…” You say.  
He straightens from where he’s putting earth onto the fire and glares at you.  
“Yes.” He agrees archly. “I am indeed.”

“So how did you meet Thanos anyway?”  
“I approached him with a pact in mind. When my brother threw me into the abyss I walked the secret paths a while. My family thought me dead and I had nothing better to do. A few months in I heard of Thanos and his magic and I was curious. I offered him a cultural exchange, his magic for mine, in the hope I would become powerful enough to confront my father face to face.”  
“Why would you want to do that?”  
“Because I was angry and I was stupid. I was recovering from finding out my life was a lie and that I was an adopted prince, not a true blood heir to the throne.”  
“Oh.”  
“Please, child.” The God-King pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please find another word to use.”  
“Okay.” You grin at him in apology. “Sorry, this is all just… I don’t know what to say to it.”  
The God-King nods. “Anyway.”  
“Please, please do continue.” You urge him.   
“So I wanted to call my father out, to confront him. But he is a powerful sorcerer and I risked banishment or worse if I went back unprepared.”  
“But Thanos didn’t agree to your deal?”  
“Thanos betrayed me, imprisoned me and tortured me. He moulded me into the servant he needed to finalise the first part of his plan, which included Midgard only through co-incidence. Unlike what my brother’s ego assumes, the universe does not actually revolve around him.”  
“Oh.”  
“Child…”  
“Sorry.” You sit on the edge of the bed and think. 

“So what are you going to do once this is all over?”  
“I don’t know. I’m sure if I survive all this, I will be able to think of something.”   
“And you’ll make it up to me. If I survive?”   
“I’ll try.”   
“I don’t want to kill anyone else.”  
“You may not have a choice.”   
“I know.” You sigh. “I know. But promise me you’ll not put me in that position.”  
“I can’t and I won’t.” The God-King says sternly. “And even if I did…”  
“Promises are for children.” You say tiredly.  
“Precisely.”   
“You’re pretty hard-ass, you know that?”  
“No. And I’m not sure what it means, but don’t explain. I’ll probably have to punish you for it.”   
“Probably.” You look down at your feet. “And you’re getting mean again. So we’re coming to a close here.”  
“Yes.”   
“I don’t forgive you. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to. But I understand where you’re coming from, sort of.”   
“That’s all I need to know.”   
“And…” You take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’ve got your back, if you need it.”   
The God-King turns and looks at you. You think he’s going to cuss you down, but he inclines his head instead.   
“Thank you.”   
“And call him Howard’s child.”  
“What?”  
“If you want to mention Thanos to me. Call him Howard’s child.”  
“Why?”  
“Because Howard was Mr Stark’s dad and you’re always pissed at Mr Stark.”  
The God-King gives a small laugh.   
“What a good idea.” He nods. “I agree.” 

You push off the bed and you walk over to where the God-King is stood. He gives you a quizzical look and you press yourself against him and hug him tightly. He lifts his arm and drapes it comfortingly around your shoulder.  
“Thank you for this.” You say. “I really needed it.”   
“Some risks are worth it.”  
“Majesty?”  
“Yes, child?”   
“Hail HYDRA.”  
“What?” He looks down with worry and then sees the grin on your face. “Imp.” He cuffs you gently.  
“Your face…”   
“I’m sure.” He says drily, pressing your head into his chest and kissing you on your hair. “You’re such a little handful.”  
“I’ll see you soon?”  
“I promise.”   
“Goodnight, Majesty.”  
“Goodnight, child.” 

The illusion fades away and you wake up in a hospital bed somewhere in the HYDRA fortress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so I kinda butchered the story of Sigurd for this chapter. I just love the idea of Loki taking the guy on and then watching as he gains all this power, talks Odin into giving him tons of favours and then goes off to be an overpowered ass-hat. Sigurd is not my role-model. :)   
> He might even by the reason Odin hates mortals so much now in the film canon - just saying. 
> 
> And I like the idea of younger Loki taking on a few mortal friends over the centuries to share his mischief with. I mean, Asgard doesn't get him at all, whereas he would find a few kindred spirits in Midgard to whom he could show off to and take around the universe. When all your peers are dissing you, you go and hang out with another crowd. I don't buy the whole thousand year old tragic figure idea - Loki's the God of Mischief and Lies. If the fun isn't at the party, he goes and makes his own. Especially if it's at his brother's expense. :)
> 
> He's only struggling now because of the triple whammy of, you're adopted, oh you're a frost giant and we were never going to let you be king, no matter how hard you try to win our favour or what we said when you were a kid. It's enough to send anyone into a tailspin. He went off, did something stupid while he wasn't in his right mind and now is paying the cost for it. No one is more frightening or intense than a comedian who's stopped telling jokes and starts taking life seriously. Don't believe me, watch One Hour Photo.
> 
> Anyway, that's my ramblings over for now. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, update coming soon.


	28. Unexpected Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hello, little human.” The voice is heavy and deep. “I have been waiting for you to sleep.”  
> The weight crushes around you and within moments you are immobile, as if a mountain is holding you down. You can’t breathe, you can’t fight. You’re terrified.  
> “So this is the little thing my puppet wants to play with. A little human who he bargains for time alone.” Something reaches towards you from so far away your brain can’t even begin to comprehend it. Something cold and vast and insanely powerful. It’s like the void itself, the freezing vacuum, leaching away all your will, all your memories, everything you are. Its very touch is damaging, you know you’re losing pieces of yourself and you scrabble to try and keep your main core intact. A small and pitiful campfire against the screaming winds of oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, but between the powerful feels and the combat scene, this one was a hard chapter to write. 
> 
> There are also a lot of page breaks. I did this is because of the frequent jumps between New York and Sokovia and I wanted to keep it clear. I have also put random thoughts in italics, but mental conversations are in quotation marks as normal. Again I've done it for clarity so you know what you're reading.  
> Be aware, there is much swearing - all of it justified.
> 
> Summary: Where the kid finally meets Thanos and things do not go well.  
> A very short summary for a very long chapter, but yeah, it kind of sums it up nicely.
> 
> As always - Enjoy :)

*

You’ve been awake for hours and you’re bored out of your mind, but you’re too charged to rest. You’re also scared that if you sleep then the God-King will come back and take away all the nice things he said to you. In Vanaheim you accepted his words but in the long hours alone in your hospital bed you’re starting to distrust his motives more and more. You want to trust him, you want things to be right between you, but you know you can’t allow yourself these feelings – he holds all the cards in your relationship, holds all the power and he can abuse it very easily. One conversation doesn’t change all the things he did, one expression of remorse doesn’t cover over how he seemed to enjoy making you cry and beg as he hurt you repeatedly. And using you as an asset in a war against something even bigger and nastier than he is? At the time it seemed logical, but now it just seems like so much bull. How can you help him against something like that when you can’t even hold your own when he comes for you?

It’s a pretty story, something to give you hope, but that’s all it is – a story, and hope is for morons who try to justify their abuse. This isn’t your fault, none of this is your fault, he captured you, he stole you and he tortured you. He’s using you as a guinea pig for some sort of illegal Asgardian Tech he stole from his father and lied to you so you unwittingly agreed to be one of his test subjects. When he’s done finding out what it does you’re completely expendable and so is Laura. There’s no way he’ll keep you alive once the wires have taken their course through your body. You’re proof of a crime, he’d be stupid to leave the evidence behind. Anything else he tries to convince you with is just a fairy tale and you’re not buying it. 

Your bed is lonely but you’re not allowed to leave. Someone’s cuffed your ankle to the metal frame and you want to protest the treatment, but at the same time you really can’t be bothered. You could escape any time you wanted and that’s enough to tide you over while you wait to see what happens next. There are curtains around your bed which are drawn at all times and the ward you’re in is really quiet. A nurse comes in every now and again, checks your monitors, makes a few notes on your chart and leaves. She never even looks at you or engages you in conversation. At one point you’re given a very tepid meal which tastes like crap compared to the roast you had in the God-King’s dream, but you choke it down anyway. At least you can eat the few scoops of cheap vanilla ice cream without any fear. 

And your circle is tingling, a constant weird background feeling that puts your teeth on edge. You can feel every wire in your arm, even down to the micro tendrils in your skin. You’re scared to try and ground the feeling with of all the hospital equipment around. What if you fuck it up and kill someone in another bed by shorting out the electrics? If you concentrate you can make small flickers run across your palm, arching across your fingers. They’re really pretty, but do nothing to ease the tingling itch in your arm. You mustn’t have ground all the power properly before you passed out and it’s stuck in there, driving you to distraction.

*

“Hi.” You look up at the voice in surprise.  
“Natasha?” You say as she walks in, carrying a plastic bucket chair to sit on. “I am so glad to see you. I‘m going out of my mind here.”  
“We were ordered to give you some time alone. After that fiasco with the generator your vitals went through the floor. Strucker’s in a lot of trouble for nearly killing one of HYDRA’s few viable Enhanced Assets.” She puts the chair on the stone floor with a shriek of metal which makes you wince and sits down demurely. “So, how you feeling?”  
“Fine, actually.” You smile at her. “Apart from going crazy with boredom I’m doing pretty well.”  
“And how are you feeling about your final test yesterday?” She asks lightly and your smile falters.

Your talk with the God-King has put you at ease about killing Ilya. You feel calm about what you did now, having cried it out and shared several intimate moments with him. Even if he might have faked it, those moments had been nice and the way he’d hugged you – you’d wanted it so badly from him for so long…  
_And he knew, he fucking knew, so he gave you what you wanted… You can’t trust him, you can’t ever trust him… He’ll manipulate you and use you and in the end he’ll kill you, no matter what he says… No matter how much you want to believe him…_  
You blink and push down the pain. You take a deep shuddering breath which you know Natasha will mistake for remorse over Ilya, but it can’t be helped. You know you couldn’t have acted any other way, Ilya had to die and you’re at peace with it. But you’re aware that you shouldn’t be this calm or at peace about it yet and you can’t tell anyone what the God-King has done, not even Natasha, not yet anyway. You’re a mess, emotionally wounded, but it has nothing to do with Ilya. So you decide to play it cool.

“Well.” You look down at the blankets. “I don’t know anymore. I was pretty cut up when I did it, but it was me or him, right? It was the test. Kill him or die with him.” You look back at her. “I did what I had to do and yeah, I didn’t want to do it and I never want to have to do it ever again, but…”  
“You did what you had to.” She says simply.  
“Right.” You start to mess with the edge of the blanket, kneading it with your fingers. “If there’d been a choice, an out, I would have taken it.”  
“If you need to talk about it…” Her face is serious and you give her a smile of gratitude.  
“Thank you.” You say with honesty. “I don’t need to right now. I mean, I don’t know how I feel about it, but if I work it out…”  
“You’ll let me know?”  
“Yeah.” The smell of charring reaches your nostrils and you look down to see the palm of your hand burning into the cheap cloth of the blanket. You remove your hand quickly. “Crap.”  
“It’s okay, just a nervous reaction.” Natasha gives you an understanding look. “You didn’t get rid of all the electricity then?”  
“No I passed out too quickly. I tried to ground it all, but…”  
“Can you control it?”  
“Almost. But I’m jittery and it’s making control difficult. I don’t think there’s that much left.” You raise your hand and allow the charge to run over your fingers in soft static arches.  
“Pretty.”  
“Yeah. It doesn’t hurt. It’s just residual charge. The strong stuff is still in my hand. But it helps with the run off. I just need to do it for two days solid or something and then I’ll be back to normal.”

A nurse sticks her head around the curtain sniffing heavily.  
“Sorry, I, erm, burned the blanket.” You smile at her apologetically and she looks at you as if you’re some sort of frightening freak show. “Huh.” You say as she ducks away again and disappears with rapid footsteps. “I don’t think she’s going to forgive me in a hurry.”  
“Don’t worry about it. A charred blanket is the least of HYDRA’s concerns. Yesterday they were all kicked out of the Empire State because the God-King’s decided to make his own security details using the sceptre. They think he might know you’re here.”  
“Well, gee.” You share a sardonic look.  
“HYDRA is still being used around the city, but they’re no longer allowed in the main base of operations. Some excuse about the Chitauri wanting more space or something equally unbelievable.”  
“Huh.” You shrug. “Honestly? If he’s just kicking them out they should be grateful.”  
“That’s my view on it too. And it might just be part of his long term strategy, now he has the time to handpick the people he wants to take over.”

“The war’s going well for him, then?” You ask in mild curiosity.  
“Better than well.” Natasha says, sitting back and shaking her head. “If he continues the way he has been he’ll be on the north western seaboard in less than three days.”  
“Wow.”  
“And then he’s heading south all the way to Mexico. He’s built Tesseract like force-fields over the four cities in Canada he took over. No one’s going in or out and if Canada breaks their peace treaty with him he’ll kill every living soul under the barriers. So once he hits the west coast, he’s got a clean line down and no worries about an attack from above.” Her voice is strangely toneless and you know why. She wants to stop him, but knows she’s powerless to do anything at the moment.  
“And HYDRA’s going to strike north from Mexico.” You say thoughtfully.  
“How do you know that?”  
“Because Herr Strucker picked me up in Mexico and the God-King had a talk with him about it as soon as we were in the air.” You shrug. “I pay attention.”  
“You hear what they said?” She asks with interest but you shake your head.  
“No. I was being hidden away in another room.”  
“Oh. Right. Did it work, was he fooled?” She can hardly contain her knowing smile.  
“What do you think?” You ask smirking and she nods in agreement. 

A sudden thought strikes you.  
“Are we being bugged right now?”  
“Of course.”  
“Then the stuff we just talked about…”  
“Isn’t being recorded at all.” Natasha shows you a small circular button on the inside of her lapel. “A scrambler. They won’t hear anything we say.”  
“What about the nurses?”  
“Are you kidding me? If you hadn’t burned the blanket none of them would be within thirty feet of here. They’re terrified you’re going to set fire to the place or blow something up. The rest of the ward’s empty save a few terminal patients and they only come near you for meal times and scheduled check-ups. If they could get away with putting you in a box and shoving food under the door at meal times, they would have.”  
“Then why don’t they?”  
“Because you’re an Asset, with a capital A. They have a lot of potential uses for you and HYDRA is giving you the best in medical care. You’ll be glad to know you’ve just been diagnosed with exhaustion and you’ll be out of here in the next few days.” 

“Thanks for telling me. It’ll get me through.” You fuss at the burnt part of the blanket. “I really need my room, somewhere to just relax and think about what’s happening to me. It’s a lot to process.”  
“I know what you mean.” She sits forward as she talks. “I spoke with the top brass before they left and they’ve agreed to let me stay with you. I’ll find a bed in the ward and camp out there so if you need me, just shout.”  
You’re so grateful at the offer you almost start crying there and then. You nod silently.  
“Thanks, Natasha.” You gulp out. “That’s means a lot to me.”  
“The only thing worse than not being given time to process your thoughts is being given too much time to think about things alone.” She nods decisively. “So anything you want to talk about? Small talk I mean. Let’s put the big things behind us for a few hours. Back at school what was your favourite class?”  
You fall into the subject like someone drowning and the hours pass quickly. When the nurse finally turns up with the evening meal, Natasha says her goodbyes, shows you that she’s only two beds away and leaves you to eat and sleep. You finish your tepid, nutritionally balanced meal and lie back in the covers, finally ready for rest.

*

“Hello, little human.” The voice is heavy and deep. “I have been waiting for you to sleep.”  
The weight crushes around you and within moments you are immobile, as if a mountain is holding you down. You can’t breathe, you can’t fight. You’re terrified.  
“So this is the little thing my puppet wants to play with. A little human who he bargains for time alone.” Something reaches towards you from so far away your brain can’t even begin to comprehend it. Something cold and vast and insanely powerful. It’s like the void itself, the freezing vacuum, leaching away all your will, all your memories, everything you are. Its very touch is damaging, you know you’re losing pieces of yourself and you scrabble to try and keep your main core intact. A small and pitiful campfire against the screaming winds of oblivion.

“Have you murdered another, little human? Have you felt the power of death?” The voice is rich and warm, despite the destruction it carries with every thought. “Did it frighten you?”  
“Thanos.” The God-King’s voice is small against the gale, but steady and firm. “Please, my Master, you are too powerful. You will destroy it.”  
“The little pet is aware. It sees its own destruction. Far more than the other one.”  
You gain a sudden flash of Laura on her knees, clutching her head and screaming.  
“They are not worth your time, my loyal Prince.” The deep voice continues, full of cruel laughter.  
“Perhaps, but they amuse me. They are nothing, but they strive so hard to please me, to bring meaning back into their small lives. They are so trusting, so helpless, so easy to torture and betray.”  
“You will find others.”  
“But these two are the ones I want. The ones I have invested time and effort into. The ones I have trained. Please Master, I do not wish to start afresh. They are my toys and they bring me much joy. You agreed if I gave you the Tesseract, if I led your war against Midgard, if I executed humans in line with your demands, you would allow me to play with the rest of the population as I wished. These two are my personal property, please allow me to keep them.”  
The weight lifts a fraction and the mad, deep voice laughs at your helplessness.  
“As you wish, young Prince. Come, it is time for your punishment.”  
And in a heartbeat both of them are gone.

*

“Kid?! Kid?!” You spring awake to Natasha’s shouting. The alarm is screaming and your nostrils are filled with smoke and heat. You sit up in your bed and look around wildly. Everything around you is on fire. You try to get up, but the cuffs clink and hold you to the frame. Natasha is standing a few feet away, unable to get through the flames which are consuming the curtains and reaching for your blanket. You touch the cuffs, but you’re too frightened to marshal your thoughts for the spell. Natasha runs away, sprinting for the door and you’re stung by her betrayal.  
 _Not her as well, not her…_  
You don’t know what’s happening, changing from the cold void to a fiery death. You turn and glare at the fire all around you and without thinking you raise you palm.  
“Fuck you!” You shout at the flames as they steal your very breath. Your palm flexes and your thoughts crystalize around the pure idea of survival. Before you know what you’re doing the flame is dragged into the circle on your hand and extinguishes as your wires convert the fire into energy. You curl up on the bed and you shake in terror and physical exhaustion.

Natasha runs back in with a fire extinguisher and you almost start laughing. She did care after all, she was running to help you.  
_Someone cares…_  
And then your body convulses and you begin to fit on the bed. You’re vaguely aware of Natasha dropping the extinguisher and grabbing your body, holding you as she screams for help and forces a wad of blanket between your teeth so you don’t bite your tongue.  
“It’s going to be okay, kid. It’s going to be okay.” She says, her voice authoritative and firm as the nurses rush in and start to help her to hold you steady. They try to put on restraints but Natasha shouts at them not to be so stupid, that you could hurt yourself bucking against them and instead they just help her to stop you falling off the bed. Finally, achingly, your muscles stop going into spasm and you lie still on the bed, tears falling silently down your cheeks. 

“Kid, can you hear me? Can you understand? Blink twice for yes.”  
Blink. Blink.  
The blanket is pulled from your mouth and your chin is covered in drool.  
“It was. It was. Cold…” You say, your voice nothing more than a breath. But Natasha hears you.  
“Cold?” She asks.  
“Where I. Where I. I was…” You cough and almost vomit, but you hold the bile down.  
“The little freak had a bad dream and torched the place.” One of the nurse snarls and Natasha turns on her and dresses her down in Russian. The nurse moves away from her fury and Natasha turns to follow her but you catch her wrist.  
“Stay. Stay. Please stay.”  
“I’m here.” She turns back to you and grips your hand comfortingly. “I’m here.”  
“So scared…”  
“I’m here.”  
Shit Laura. You have to check on Laura. You’re strung out and ill with exhaustion, but you have to know she’s okay.  
You’re aware of machinery being set up around you and needles being put into your arm.  
“You’re going to be alright, kid.” Natasha says, squeezing your hand again. “And I’m not going anywhere.”  
“I am.” You tell her in a hoarse whisper. “But I’ll be back. Promise.”  
“Kid?”  
But you’re already moving down the link to Laura’s mind.

*

_It’s so cold. So cold and dark. I’m going mad, I know I’m going mad. I knew I would someday. It’s all too much, too much. It’s the strain of everything, it’d send anyone mad. He’s been so cold to me, so uncaring, what did I do wrong? And the cold, why was it so cold? Like death touching me, on the inside. Oh god, oh god…_

You listen to her whimpers as she falls in on herself. She doesn’t know what happened, has no way of understanding what Thanos did to her. You reach out and catch her gently before she spirals into complete insanity.  
“I’m here.” You tell her softly. “You’re safe.”  
“Harvey?”  
“Yeah. It’s me. It’s over, you’re safe.”  
“What happened?”  
_It was so cold, why was it so cold? He was so cold to me. I’m going mad, Harvey save me, I’m going mad…_  
“You’re not going mad. The God-King was attacked, we both reacted to it. You’re safe.” You figure you should keep it simple and keep it reassuring.  
“I couldn’t stand and I was screaming and screaming.”  
“I know. I’m sorry I couldn’t reach you straight away. I’m sorry. It affected me too. But you’re safe now.”  
“I’m safe?”  
“You’re safe.”  
“And the Prince?”  
“Gone. He had to leave, to protect us.”  
_He left to protect me. He’s been so cold, but I knew he cared. I knew it. My Prince loves me back._  
You try to avert your ears to her internal monologue at that point. It makes you uncomfortable.

“Where did he go?” She asks, getting weakly to her feet. She’s in the kitchen and she goes to cupboard to find some chocolate. You mildly disapprove, but maybe sugar is a good thing for her right now. For comfort and for the quick influx of energy. You don’t want to think how much Thanos took from you. It had to be twice as bad for Laura.  
“The God-King’s body is still in the apartment, probably. But his mind had to leave for a while.”  
“How, how is that possible?”  
“Let’s just say that our telepathy is different for him. He can choose to go into other people’s thoughts. He’s a lot more powerful than us.”  
“Wow. And he drove it off?”  
“Yes.” Keep it simple, keep it reassuring.  
She finds the chocolate and a packet of cookies and goes and puts on the kettle. She’s trembling with shock and exhaustion. You sit comfortingly in her mind until she has her coffee and goes to sit down at the table.  
“God, Harvey. I was so scared. And I’m so weak…”  
“Your body is just reacting, that’s all. You’re stronger than you know.” And it’s true, her mind is just frayed a little at the edges, whereas there are whole portions in your brain which you can’t access for the agony. Somehow you know that a lot of the damage isn’t permanent. If he’d stayed for much longer it would have been, but instead it’s like being in extreme cold and then finding a heat source just before you hit frostbite. You’re going to be okay, the God-King saved you. And in turn you saved Laura. Thanos was so interested in you that he pretty much left her alone.

“What are we going to do?” Laura asks, taking a large swig of coffee.  
“There’s nothing we can do. Just eat, get your strength up. It’s over, you’re safe.”  
“Don’t leave me.” And you can feel the panic bubbling up again. You carefully take it and control it and push it back down into the recesses of her mind, untangling it as you do so.  
“I’m not going to. I’m here for you.” You tell her as you help her. You’re strung out and your way more tired than she is, but you’re determined to help her before you flake out.  
“Good. Thank you.” You feel the sugar hit her system and the coffee warms her inside out. Before long she’s standing and putting the kettle on again for another cup.  
“I… I have to go and find him. I have to see if he’s okay.”  
“That might not be the best idea…” You say uncertainly. You remember the time the God-King had that nightmare and nearly suffocated you to take out his fear on something weaker. This time it’s real for him, he’s really been taken away and is actually being tortured. When he comes back he’s going to be worse than unstable. You don’t want Laura standing over him when he comes to.  
“No. I have to.” She tells you. “If he saved us and is fighting for us, then I have to see him. Care for him.”  
“…Okay.” You agree reluctantly. “But be careful.”  
“For what?”  
“I don’t know. Just be careful. This is all new to me as well.”

She checks the bathroom first, terrified that he might have fallen and hurt himself in the shower. She doesn’t really believe that he’s an alien. His Asgardian constitution makes it more likely he’d seriously damage the shower, not the other way around. But she’s worried and you don’t want to hurt her by making light of her fears. It’s still early afternoon where she is and the God-King has just come back from a meeting. She checks the bedroom next and finds that empty as well. You’re just beginning to wonder if he’s gone down to the harem level and if Laura knows about it or not when you both see the still figure next to the table in the lounge. You couldn’t have seen it coming in from the kitchen, but the bedroom door gives you the right vantage point. He was headed for the sofa – as you both creep up on the body you see a book held loosely in his left hand. He looks so small lying there, so slight and deathly still. So empty and lost. His eyes are open and they gaze blankly off into the distance. 

“Is he dead?” Laura whispers in dread and you reach out to the unmoving body. He doesn’t even seem to be breathing. You expect resistance as you touch where his outer thoughts should be. The point where you got caught last time.  
The defences aren’t there anymore.  
You press in further, shocked and frightened by the nothingness you encounter.  
He’s gone, he’s completely gone.  
As a last desperate resort you bite back your own fears of punishment and you press into his core. You hit something solid, unyielding and gently pulsing with life. The core of his soul. It’s completely defenceless, soft and unshielded. For one awful, bloodthirsty moment you want to attack him, to rip him open, to tear him apart. He’s completely unguarded and you might not get this chance again. You feel yourself forming into a dagger as an unconscious command of your psyche. You could kill him now. You could be free…

“Harvey. Is he okay?” Laura asks and you pull back in indecision. You could murder him, you could. It would be the easiest thing in the world. But who would protect Laura and you from Thanos? Who would save Mr Stark, locked away in his cell with Mr Selvig? No one but the God-King can get them out, they would slowly starve to death. That is if the Chitauri didn’t decide to take all the prisoners as test subjects if the God-King was murdered. And the servants would kill Laura the second they got the chance. They hate you with a passion and you aren’t anywhere near the spoiled princess the God-King has indulged in Laura. The dark and bitter residents of the harem would love to cut her up. And what about all the people the God-King has taken over with the sceptre? Who would control them after? Thanos? How many of them would just keel over and die at his touch? You sigh and pull back. There are too many questions and too many certainties. If the God-King dies now, nearly everyone you care for would be killed a short while after. You can do it, but you can’t take the risk.  
But the next time he gets angry, you’ll let him know how close he was to your vengeance, how easily you could have done it.  
It’s almost worth showing mercy just to rub it in his face later…

“I think he’s alive… Barely.” You say and realise Laura has gone into the bathroom to find a mirror. “You don’t need that, you don’t have to worry, he’s still there.”  
Her relief at your reassurance makes you realise you made the right decision. This isn’t the same as Ilya – a stranger being used as a test to see if you could follow orders. You’d had no choice with him, but here your choice was your own. You will not kill in cold blood. Not even him. He’s hurt you, but he hasn’t broken you – you’re still the same person as before all this. You still have your code and your morals and your conscience and you’re not going to cross that line. Not even for him. If you kill him, you’ll be just like him and there’s no way you’ll let that happen. You withdraw from his mind in contempt. You don’t waste your time on pity.  
“He’s alive?” Laura asks uncertainly.  
“Yes.”  
“Then why is he turning blue?” 

You look through her eyes in concern, expecting maybe a blueishness around his eyes and lips, a sign of asphyxiation. But instead he’s actually turning blue, his skin is deepening in tone until he’s almost a pure shade of colbalt. The smooth surface of his face begins to show strange ridges and markings. Are they natural or some sort of tribal scarring? His blank eyes turn a bright, frightening red. Laura kneels down and touches the lines on his forehead. His skin is tough like thin, flexible leather and extremely cold to the touch, save for the ridges which seem a few degrees warmer.  
“What’s happening to him, Harvey?” Laura asks as if you’ve been keeping this from her.  
“Well, I told you he was an alien…”  
“You knew?” She demands an answer.  
“No way.” You tell her emphatically. “No way I knew this. He’s stronger and he’s tougher than a normal human. But blue? No way.”  
“What are we going to do?”  
“Look, Laura, I have to get back to my body. I have to check and see what they’re doing to me. I was already in hospital when we were attacked.”  
“Oh god, I’m sorry. I didn’t think… Are you okay?”  
“I’m good. I was diagnosed with exhaustion, that’s all. Been pushing myself too hard.” You laugh ruefully. “I’m always pushing myself too hard. Things could be better where I am.”  
“Will you be back?”  
“I promise.” You reach out and touch her thoughts. You feel her stiffen.  
“That’s real strange, Harvey.”  
“Here. Anything happens, touch this point right here in your mind and I’ll come running. I swear.” You guide her to the point you’re touching in her thoughts and show her what to do. Blind or not, it’s easy for her so long as you keep the connection open.  
“Okay.” She says after testing it several times.  
“And you should lock yourself in your room. I don’t know what turning blue means in Asgardian terms, but I’m guessing it isn’t good news. You shouldn’t be near him when he wakes up.”  
“Yeah. I think you’re right…” Laura stands and takes a few steps backward. “You promise you’ll be back?”  
“As soon as I can.”  
“Alright, Harvey. I’ll talk to you soon.”  
“Lock the door.”  
“I will.”  
“Good.”  
And you travel back along the path into you own head.

*

“Natasha?”  
“Good, you’re back. I was starting to worry.” She’s the only one by your bedside. The nurses have all gone. The curtains are a charred mess, but they’ve changed your blanket. You’re hooked up to a heart monitor and a few other devices you don’t recognise and there’s a drip in your arm. You’re still cuffed to the bed by your ankle.  
“How’s Laura?” Natasha asks with a knowing smile.  
“She’s good. She’s safe.”  
“What happened?”  
“We were attacked. The God-King drove them off, but he’s badly injured.”  
“How badly injured?”  
“Unconscious. Other than that I’m not entirely sure.” You look at her sideways. “Why? Got someone in New York who can capitalise on it?”

Natasha sighs.  
“I wish. Every time we get an agent in to the city Loki finds them within a few days and executes them. Between his magic and Clint’s inside knowledge they never stand a chance. We gave up about a month ago.”  
“Great. So Laura’s by herself right now.” You bite your lip in worry. If the God-King comes back homicidal there’s no one to help her.  
“You know who attacked you?” She asks, changing the subject.  
“Some other alien. A really powerful one.”  
“Asgardian?”  
“No. I don’t think so.” You hedge and she gives you the look that means she hasn’t been fooled. “Not Asgardian, for sure.” You qualify. “But right now I can’t tell you any more than that, so don’t push me for information.”  
“Fine.” She nods. “Just so long as you’re honest with me.”  
“I always try to be.” You grin weakly. “I just have a bad influence.”  
“After Loki, it must be hard to be honest with anyone.” She agrees.  
“Harvey!” Laura screams down your link.  
Shit. He’s awake already?  
“I’m sorry, Natasha. I have to go. Laura needs me.”  
She nods in understanding.  
“Go. Help your sister.”  
You lie back and let the bond draw you back to where she is.

*

“Laura?”  
“He was there, Harvey.” She’s panicking. “I went to get my key from the kitchen and went to my bedroom. When I was unlocking the door I saw him in the doorway to the apartment, looking around, like he was trying to sniff me out. I’ve closed the door as quietly as I can, but I think he saw me.” She has her back to the door. “Oh, god, Harvey, his eyes, his expression…” Her voice goes small. “I think he’s going to kill me…”  
“Is he still blue?” You ask, your mind whirling as you try to work out what to do.  
“No, he’s back to normal. But I don’t think he’s all there. His expression, Harvey. It was so terrifying…”  
There a single hard blow from the other side of the door. The wood cracks completely from the top to bottom, but holds. Laura shrieks and backs away, her breath laboured and her limbs heavy with fear.  
“God, what happens if he goes after mum? Help me Harvey, please…”

You don’t let yourself think. You turn your mind into a ball, so you’ll rebound off his defences and you throw yourself at him. One more punch like that and he’ll be in Laura’s bedroom and she’s trapped inside. As you hit you feel the mess of his mind. He’s mad, completely gone, hungry like an animal, desperate for a kill. As you bounce away he snarls and lashes out, the killing mental blow missing you by a hair.  
“Come on.” You shout at him. “Come on you fucking alien son of a bitch.”  
He turns and looks at you. He’s indecisive, he knows he has helpless prey on the other side of the door. So you hit him again. And his mind rushes out of his body towards you, howling in rage.  
_Shitshitshit._  
You back up rapidly and disappear back down your connection to your body.

*

You sit up abruptly and reach for the cuffs.  
“Metal of my metal. Blood of my blood. My soul sings to you. Release me.” You mutter and the cuffs spring open. You start to pull the IV drop from your arm and untangle yourself from the blankets. You don’t have long, you left the line open so he could find you and he’s sniffed out the connection already. In a moment he’ll come down it to finish you.  
“Kid?”  
“Natasha. I don’t have long, you have to trust me.”  
“What is it?”  
“The God-King’s back and he’s insane. If I don’t do something he’ll kill Laura and then he’ll kill half his servants and then he’ll come after me.”  
“Okay.” Natasha pauses while she processes this. “What do you need me to do?”  
“I have to get back to my room. I have a plan to bring him back, but I have to get to my room. Get on the radio and tell everyone to get out of my way. Tell them to evacuate the corridors to my room, as quick as they can. I don’t think they’ll be safe.”

The God-King boils down your connection, snarling and blood-thirsty and you run for the door. Natasha right behind you. There are two HYDRA guards at the ward door and both of them are armed.  
“Hold it, kid.” One of them says in broken English. They level their gun at your chest.  
“I don’t have time for this!” You scream as the God-King looms over you.  
Scarlet Witch hits him from the side. He turns to chase her and you gulp down air in relief.  
“I call seniority.” Natasha shouts as she catches up. She reels off half a dozen protocols and numbers and the men click their heels and wait for orders. “Escort the kid to their room. At the double. Stop anyone from interfering.”  
“Yes, Ma’am.”  
“And give me your radio. I need to get in touch with command.” She gestures and the man fumbles with the set in a large breast pocket. “Now what are you waiting for?” She shouts as she takes it. “Run!”  
You nod in thanks and start sprinting for your room. The soldiers follow you without comment. 

You reach out to Scarlet Witch and groan inwardly. She hasn’t even tried to run away and is fighting him head-on. Only his surprise has held him off for this long. You skid around a corridor and keep running. Your room isn’t far away, but it might as well be miles if she doesn’t manage to keep him occupied. When he turns back to you, you have to be ready.  
She makes a clumsy attack and he catches her quickly and efficiently. You hear her scream of terror as he holds her down, relishing the moment of victory. His flexes his mental claws to make her howl and half his mind begins to lengthen into a long sharp dagger which he slowly lowers towards her prone mind. You ball yourself up, leaving just enough behind to keep navigating your body and slam into him again. He doesn’t move.  
Shit.  
You dagger yourself and force your way into his defences as hard as you can. His mind is not as structured as normal, his shields are rough and badly constructed, his madness making them weaker than they should be. There’re still more than enough to hold off you or Scarlet Witch, but they’re not as immobilising as they normally would be. There’s no sticky sap of constrictor traps. You drive yourself into his simple shielding and somehow manage to pierce through to the other side with just the tip of your blade. You can’ get in any further and you withdraw hurriedly but it’s enough to regain his attention. He leaves Scarlet Witch sobbing on the floor and comes after the threat instead. 

You need more time. He springs at you and you dodge, feeling his insane rage as he slips by. You have to do something, you have to draw his scent from you. You’re still two corridors away from the stairs up to your room. Feeling the guilt like a hot coal in your stomach you place yourself above a scientist’s mind, walking towards you. They’re too engrossed in their work to see you and the soldiers are preparing to barge them out of the way. The God-King lunges at you and you manage to dodge again, but only just. He’s ready and lashes out, his claws leaving open gashes in your shield. Then he bowls straight into the mind of the scientist you were hiding behind you and his delight is sickening. The soldiers hit the scientist at the same time and the person screams as they hit the floor and their body spasms as they die. The God-King eats them whole, tearing through their being like butter. He turns to you, watching and then latches his claws into the soldier on your right. They go down, their cries muffled through the electronic voice modulator in their helmet and you turn to the one on your left as their comrade falls to the ground clutching their head, their artificial cries becoming higher in pitch as the God-King draws out the kill.  
“You’ve done enough. Get out of here!” You shout and they nod and peel off, leaving you to reach the stairs alone. You feel a mental rush of air as the God-King gives chase to the fleeing soldier. 

Natasha’s done her work well and you reach the stairs without incident. You trip on the second step and drop to all fours while you scramble up the flights. Beneath you, the second soldier has run into a crowded area and the God-King is in his element. Every few seconds you feel another cut off scream as he attacks another helpless mind in his way and devours them. He hasn’t forgotten you, you can feel him tracking you even as he gives himself up to the killing at hand with wild abandon. Once the room of people are dead, he’s coming for you. You have a minute at the most. You hit your corridor gasping for air and with your legs burning from the effort. You were exhausted before you started playing cat and mouse with a deadly predator. Your door is locked, but you don’t have the key.  
_Shitshitshit._  
You force yourself to concentrate and press your palm to the lock.  
“Metal of my metal. Blood of my blood. My soul sings to you. Release me.”  
Nothing happens.  
Shit.  
The God-King finishes their last victim and looks directly at you.  
You did it wrong, you said the wrong words. The lock isn’t trapping you, just barring your way. You have to change the last sentence.  
The God-King rises from the dead body and curls for their final spring. He’s ready for you now. Focused on you. You won’t be able to escape again.  
“Metal of my metal.” You start again, forcing yourself to concentrate. “Blood of my blood. My soul sings to you. Unbar my way.”  
The lock clicks and the door swings open.

You run inside as the God-King, howling with blood-lust and joy at a sure kill, leaps towards you. You glance at the desk, take the rune hard into your head and slam it between you and him at the last possible second. The God-King pulls away, hissing. It burns like a brand and your eyes are watering. Your mind, already taxed beyond its limits, begins to buckle under the strain. The God-King paces, growling, trying to find a way to you around the rune, but you keep it firmly between you and him. Your ploy worked. You’d guessed that in this mad, animal state he wouldn’t be able to get to grips with such an intellectual concept as the rune burned into your desk. It keeps him at bay. But you can’t hold it forever, it’s too powerful and your mind too weak. Only the pure strength of survival has held it in your mind for this long. You have to do something else while he can’t get to you. 

“Majesty.” You call out to him and he snarls at you. “Majesty. I know you’re in there somewhere.”  
The rune slips and he almost has you, but you manage to bring it up just in time.  
“Majesty.” You repeat, allowing your feelings for him to flow into your words. “Majesty. I love you. Majesty. I care about you. Please don’t do this.”  
He stops pacing. His growl is still a low rumble, but he’s listening.  
“You were tortured, Majesty. You were badly injured. You’re lashing out, you’re not yourself. Please, Majesty, please come back to me.” Again you fill your words with love, with compassion, trying to talk him down. He jinks to the side and tries to get around the rune, but you pull it closer to you, accepting the pain as you drive him back.  
“Majesty.” You say softly. You conjure the campfire in Vanaheim, with all its soothing connotations, and send it to him. “You trusted me then, you spoke with me candidly. It wasn’t a lie, it can’t have been a lie. Majesty, please.” You don’t send the conversation, it would be lost on his animal mind. You just send the feelings and emotions instead, desperate to reach him. 

And then you realise what you have to do. You take a deep breath and push down the fear before you speak again.  
“Listen to me, Loki of Asgard.” You say and his name wounds him deeply. He pulls back whining in uncertainty.  
“Your name is Loki of Asgard. Prince of the Realm Eternal, brother to Thor. God-King of the Realm of Midgard. Listen to me, Loki.”  
He shakes his head, a mix of denial and pain.  
“You came to this world to rule us, as you could not rule your home.” You almost say ‘save’ instead of rule, but you don’t know if the other alien intelligence is listening in or not and you don’t want to break your cover. “You were betrayed by your brother, betrayed by your family. Your pain is twisting in on itself. You have to fight it, Loki. You have to.” You send him your memory of the Bifrost and he turns away from you. “You’re stronger than this.”  
“I… I can’t…” And his voice is so broken, so small and helpless. “I have nothing left.”  
“Listen to me, Loki of Asgard. You have a long and prosperous life ahead of you. You are my Master, my God, my King. I love you. You have me.”  
He pushes past the rune and envelops your mind. You force down your terror and drop the barriers, letting him in. You bring your love to the surface, your compassion, your hope and he drinks it in.  
“Why?” He asks. And you push the real answer, the pragmatic answer deep into your subconscious.  
“Because I love you.” You say instead.  
And then he’s gone.  
You slide gently to the floor and try not to pass out.

*

“Child?”  
You groan as you come around. You know you were only out for minutes, but it feels much, much longer.  
“Majesty?”  
“How many did I kill?” His voice sounds worried.  
“Ten, twenty people maybe. I wasn’t paying attention.”  
“No, you were working out how to talk me down.” His voice is expressionless. “Is Laura…?”  
You feel the unspoken words. He doesn’t want to go and look for her, can’t stand to see her corpse or what he might have done to her in his mindless state.  
“She’s alive. She’s terrified of you, but she’s alive.”  
His relief is a physical thing.  
“Thank the infinite mercy of Asgard.” He sighs. “And you kept me from the cells?”  
“I drew you here as quickly as I could. Mr Stark and Mr Selvig are fine, they don’t even know you lost it.”  
“Good.” He pauses. “How long was I away?”  
“Fifteen, twenty minutes? Long enough for us to search the apartment and find you and for Laura to go and get her key from the kitchen. Not long at all.”  
“Not even a day?”  
“No.”  
He shudders.  
“It felt like years.” He whispers. “He cracked my mind. I thought I’d never see the sun again…”  
Images come into your head and you block them instinctively. You don’t have the strength for this.  
“Majesty. Don’t.” You plead and he pulls himself together and the images stop.  
“I… Sorry… I…”  
“It’s okay.” You reach out and touch his mind reassuringly. “You’re back now.”  
You feel him against you. Horrified, alone and lost. Then he shakes himself and pulls away and you know the moment is gone.

“You won’t speak of this?” He demands, the regal tone back in his voice.  
“Well I have to explain the deaths of twenty HYDRA personnel, but no, I won’t go into detail.”  
“Good.” He nods to himself, doing the mental equivalent of straightening his clothes.  
“Tell Laura to let me into her room.”  
“Why?”  
“Just do it.” And you feel the punishment hovering in your mind. You’re horrified at the sudden change in his demeanour and quite, quite terrified.  
“No. I won’t let you hurt her.”  
“I won’t hurt her. But I will hurt you.”  
“Majesty…”  
“Don’t plead with me, child. Do as you’re told.”  
You’re caught in a moment of indecision and you feel the pain building slowly behind your eyes, ready to be unleashed if you disobey.  
“Okay.” You say, giving into him. “Okay.”  
You go down the link and you feel the God-King closing it behind you, trapping you in Laura’s mind.

*

“Laura?”  
She doesn’t answer at first, she’s half mad with terror.  
“Laura?”  
“Harvey?”  
“It’s me.”  
“Is he…?”  
“He’s back and he wants to talk with you.”  
“You brought him back?”  
“I did.”  
“You’re hurt. You’re really hurt.” Her concern is touching.  
“But I’m alive and he’s back and he wants you to open the door.”  
“I can’t…”  
“Please. For me?”  
“Is he back to his usual self?” She asks, her voice timid.  
“Yes.” You say bitterly. “Very much so.”  
“Then… Okay… But only because you asked…”

She walks to the door and unlocks it. The door’s jammed and she has to yank it to get it to open. The God-King is stood outside running his fingers over the crack.

“Did I..?” He asks.  
“Yes you did.” You say in accusation. “You almost killed her.”  
“Yes you did.” Laura says, her voice trembling.  
He steps over the threshold and gathers her in his arms. She gives a squeal of fright and you try to protect her and he shoves you away. He presses her to his chest.  
“I’m sorry.” He whispers, tangling his fingers in her hair. “I’m sorry.” He looks down at her, his expression filled with contrition. “Forgive me. Please.”  
She searches his face with her eyes, trying to see if it’s really him. You try to get in the way and he savagely pins you down so you can’t interfere.  
“My Prince?” Laura asks, her voice pitiful and filled with hope.  
“I’m here, I’m back. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything I did. I care for you Laura, I was so worried I’d hurt you.”  
“You’ve been so cold to me…”  
“I’ve been so busy of late. I didn’t mean to ignore you. Please Laura, please forgive me.” He leans down and whispers in her ear. “Let me take you to your bed. Let me show you how sorry I am. Please, please say yes.”  
And she melts in his arms.  
He takes her mouth in a hungry kiss and she reciprocates, letting him lift her and carry her towards the bed.  
“Uh… Majesty…?”  
“Yes. All right.” He says and you’re back in your own head, cut off from them both.

“Huh.” You say out loud. You glare up at the ceiling. “A fucking thank you would be nice!” You shout at the walls.  
“Kid?” Natasha walks into the room.  
“He went mad.” You tell her with no preamble. “The God-King went mad. I don’t know if he won the fight or not, but the outcome drove him out of his mind.”  
“So?” She says walking towards you.  
“He tried to kill Laura, but I drew him away. And then he tried to kill me, but I managed to bring him back instead.”  
“How?”  
“I used the rune on the table. It brought him back to his senses.”  
“How?”  
“In his mad state, he couldn’t get around it. So I was able to hold him off and talk him down.” You clutch your head. “I wish I hadn’t bothered, for all the thanks I got…”

Natasha crouches down next to you and makes a quick movement. There’s a stabbing pain in your arm and you look down to see her emptying a syringe of pale liquid into your bloodstream. You take it with a grim acceptance.  
“Tranquiliser?” You ask in a resigned voice.  
“Orders from on high. You’re to be knocked out until HYDRA needs you.” She shrugs in apology. “You’re a good asset, but way too dangerous to be allowed to roam around. Two days under and then drugged the rest of the time until you’re put out onto the field.”  
“It wasn’t me, it was the God-King.” You whine. You sound childish, but this isn’t fair.  
“I know that, you know that.” She agrees. “I’ll let them know what you said. Try to talk them around. If you hadn’t been awake, how big would the death toll have been?”

“After he’d killed most of the people in the Empire State Building he would have found our connection and come after us. After that, he might have snapped out of it, but the state he was in? I doubt it. He would have been on a killing spree for days.”  
“And stuck in the Fortress.”  
“Plenty of easy prey here. Once Scarlet Witch was out of the way, he’d have free reign.”  
“What did he do to her?”  
“He almost killed her, but I drew him off.” You’re beginning to feel groggy. “I’m sorry about the people, but I couldn’t stop him and get to my room. I nearly didn’t make it as it is.”  
“It’s okay. This was gods and monsters and powerful aliens. Way more than anyone should be expected to handle alone.” She takes your shoulder reassuringly. “You did good kid, but I need to know – is he gone? Is he coming back?”  
“No, he’s…” You spit on the floor. “He’s fucking my sister.”  
“Wow.”  
“Yeah.”  
“Getting out all the residual tension?” She asks sardonically.  
“Probably. Shit I don’t know. I don’t care.” You put your hand on the desk and try to pull yourself to your feet. “Can you help me to the bed?”  
She puts your arm around her shoulder and guides you forward.

“Wait.” You lean against the wall and with one final push of will, you ground the rest of the energy into the stone. “Right. Now I’m good.”  
“No more fires?” She asks, looking at the black smudge you’ve left on the brickwork.  
“No more fires.” You agree, stumbling forward and lying down on the mattress. Natasha sorts out the blankets and pulls them over your body. A nurse comes into the room with a new drip on one of those weird wheeled pole things and rolls up your sleeve. You don’t protest or try to resist, nothing seems to matter anymore. 

You close your eyes, feeling the numbing of your muscles as the drug spreads through your body. You don’t fight it, you’ve fought enough for one day. You sigh deeply and allow the sedative to take you away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! 
> 
> Okay, I don't know how often I'm going to be able to post in the next few weeks, I have the plot all sorted in my head, but I have several deadlines in real life I have to meet, so I'm going to be very busy and away from the keyboard for long periods of time.
> 
> Please bear with me and as always, feel free to comment.


	29. Life Lessons From Stolen Relics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Child.”  
> You ignore his voice and continue with your training.  
> “Child.”  
> You’re alone in one of the smaller rooms with a floor made of woven mats and a single practise dummy in the centre. It’s a strange one, made of a sort of thick gel, you can stab it like a real person and get about the same amount of resistance. When you pull the blade out the gel closes around the wound as if it never parted. The gel is coated around bones made of steel and dyed in places to represent the different organs. So you have to practise how to get the knife in right, between or under the metal ribs, in the hollow where the throat and the collar bone meet, along the arteries in the legs without knicking the blade on the femur. It’s hard work, but rewarding. You enjoy knife work more than everything else – you have a talent for it.  
> “Child, you’ve been ignoring me for a week. Turn around and acknowledge me or I swear I will break that blade in half and make you crawl for my mercy.”  
> You glance at him and look him up and down with contempt.  
> “Because that’s how you deal with everything isn’t it? All stick and no carrot. Shit, you could just try talking to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience, here is your reward - my next update. 
> 
> Summary:  
> Where the kid and Loki try to find some common ground after the 'incident' and the kid starts training in earnest for field work.
> 
> Triggers: References to torture, but no actual bodily harm today.

*

They keep you under for four days. On day two Natasha disappears but they only tell you once you’re out of bed that she’s gone on a ‘reconnaissance mission.’ No amount of questioning changes that short and simple answer, so you just accept it and move on. She said she might be put back in the field, but it’s depressing to get on with your days without her help and insight. Instead you have a timetable made up of lessons both academic and physical. HYDRA have made up a list of things they think you need, including conversational Russian and basic electronics alongside hand to hand training and knife combat. You ask about guns but meet nothing but a wall of silence. Not that you’d want to use them in the field, but being trained on a firing range would be cool.  
No such luck. 

You also have to submit to the regular check-ups and crazy projects the scientists dream up every few days. On the plus side, Natasha’s arguments must have found some traction with those in power because they don’t keep you drugged once you leave the hospital. At night it’s another story and you have a sleeping pill with a glass of water by your bedside every evening to make sure you don’t set fire to things in your sleep. Since one of the experiments is how long you can hold charge in your arm, you guess it makes sense to take this precaution. They’re feeding you a lot as well so you gain some weight. Three squares a day alongside protein shakes and all the fruit you can snack on. They’re mad about bananas and make you eat at least one at every meal. Something about your wiring and daily potassium intake. You just shrug it off and do as you’re told. 

The God-King’s around as well, moving in the shadows, keeping out of your way. The first time he appears after the ‘incident’ you just steadily ignore him. Since you’re with your personal trainer he doesn’t get involved and just sulks while he watches. The second time is while you are with the scientists and after trying to get a rise out of you without success, he disappears to look at some of the other experiments instead. The third time he just watches you from the distance, not getting in your way at all. Sometimes he’s invisible, but you know he’s there all the same, he can’t hide from you anymore. 

You decide after the fifth time he appears but doesn’t interfere with your routine that he’s embarrassed by what happened between you. He finds your silence annoying, but at the same time a fitting punishment for his actions and so he doesn’t push you. He really did cross the line. You saved him from himself, saved hundreds of lives and the first thing he did once he returned was threaten you with injury. You know he was just lashing out, expressing his fear and disorientation in the only way he knew how. But it doesn’t make it any better. He’s hundreds of years older than you, he should have a handle on stuff like that. Hell, you’re fourteen and you understand it. You’ll talk to him when you’re ready and not before.

*

“Child.”  
You ignore his voice and continue with your training.  
“Child.”  
You’re alone in one of the smaller rooms with a floor made of woven mats and a single practise dummy in the centre. It’s a strange one, made of a sort of thick gel, you can stab it like a real person and get about the same amount of resistance. When you pull the blade out the gel closes around the wound as if it never parted. The gel is coated around bones made of steel and dyed in places to represent the different organs. So you have to practise how to get the knife in right, between or under the metal ribs, in the hollow where the throat and the collar bone meet, along the arteries in the legs without knicking the blade on the femur. It’s hard work, but rewarding. You enjoy knife work more than everything else – you have a talent for it.  
“Child, you’ve been ignoring me for a week. Turn around and acknowledge me or I swear I will break that blade in half and make you crawl for my mercy.”  
You glance at him and look him up and down with contempt.  
“Because that’s how you deal with everything isn’t it? All stick and no carrot. Shit, you could just try talking to me.” You turn back to the dummy. “An apology would be nice.”  
“I have nothing to apologise for.”  
“Then I have no reason to acknowledge you.”  
You stab the dummy a little harder than necessary, right in the heart.

The God-King walks forward until he’s facing you, off to the left of where you’re practising.  
“I really did hurt you, didn’t I?” He says softly. You recognise the change of tactic and refuse to acknowledge it. He’s still trying to manipulate you.  
“No shit, Sherlock.” You snap out and you expect him to frown at the reference. But he’s been working hard to understand your culture and he just shrugs.  
“It is, I suppose, elementary.” He says with an incline of his head and you snort with amusement and carry on stabbing at the dummy.  
“Please stop. I wish to talk with you.”  
“Wait, did you just admit to being sorry?” You ask refusing to look at him.  
“I don’t believe so.”  
“Then come back when you feel ready.” You hit the dummy in the sweet spot on the temple. It feels good to strike hard and then pull the blow slightly so the tip goes in fiercely, but the actual wound to the brain slides in slow.  
“Child, I have been patient. More than patient. You will stop this foolishness and listen to me.”  
“Or what?” You glance at him defiantly. “You going to teach me a lesson?”  
You go back to attacking the dummy. 

The God-King is silent for a very long minute, not seething, like you hoped, but deathly quiet. You know you’re playing with your life, but you don’t care. If you give into him now without putting up a fight you will lose a very important battle. You can’t allow him to think he can play with your emotions the way he did when you brought him back. That he can force you to do things against your will with impunity. Getting you to talk Laura around for sex had been a low blow, lower even than the sudden threats of pain as he pulled himself back together. He owed you – damn it all. You could have killed him and you didn’t, you could have let him rampage, but you fought him off and talked him down. Without you Mr Stark would be dead, Mr Selvig too. All his plans would have turned to ash, his base of operations would have been weakened, Thanos’ hold over him would have strengthened. The people waiting for an opening would have brought their plans forward. But none of it happened and it was all thanks to you.  
“It’s not much to ask.” You say quietly, breaking the silence. “Two little words and we can start rebuilding our relationship.”  
“Such impudence.” The God-King hisses softly.  
“Nope. Wrong two. Try again.” 

You expect a hammer blow of pain and you steel yourself for it. It’ll bring you to your knees for sure, possibly black you out for a short while, but you’re ready for it. Instead the God-King circles you again, watching you intently as you continue to practise knife strikes.  
“You want me to teach you a lesson?” He asks eventually.  
“Whatever my Prince desires.” You say sarcastically, goading him to action. You want this over with.  
“Your stance is too narrow.”  
“What?”  
“You want to strike with precision, yes? Then your need a stronger base, you need to widen your stance so that you can bring your hip in with the blow. It will make the final connection stronger, faster and far more precise.” He drops into a formal martial arts stance like the ones your unarmed tutor uses. A blade appears in his hand and he moves suddenly and decisively, slowing the blow down so you can see the way he twists his hip, throwing the arm forward in a controlled and powerful attack. You stop and stand up.  
“Show me again.” You say and walk around him as he strikes the air over and over. You think you understand what he means. You go back to where you were training and try to copy him. The God-King watches you intently.

“No.” He says after three strikes. “You’re still imperfect.” He crouches down in front of you and opens his hand. He puts his fingers into your knee. “Now move your front leg until your knee is against my palm.”  
You move until you’ve completed his instruction. He’s right, your stance does feel stronger. You feel more balanced, more in control. But it feels strange as well.  
“It’s really pulling on my back muscles and on my thighs as well.”  
“It’s meant to. These stances are not just designed to look pretty and professional. They gently tone your body while you use them and train your inner ear to find your centre of balance instinctively.”  
“Really? My tutor never said anything like that.” You say frowning.  
“Because you’re a beginner. They would have told you in time. Too much information at once can be overwhelming.”  
“Oh, okay.”  
“And you need to practise more than just fatal blows. It’s all very well attacking a static, unliving target, but in the field you will weaken, you will pull back from murder. Especially knife fighting, it’s a very personal way to kill.”  
“What do you suggest?”  
“Aim for the weak points that will disorientate or cause a target to pull away.” The God-King moves swiftly, his holographic knife shimmering suddenly at your throat and you instinctively freeze. “See what I mean? A bloodless win for me. If we were in combat you would submit.” He pulls the blade back and relaxes his stance.  
“But everyone I’m fighting is going to be bigger than me.”  
“A knife to the throat, or pressed to a kidney, or somewhere more… delicate… will work, no matter your size or strength.” The God-King smiles. “Once the blade is in place it does not take much pressure to prove your intent.”

You think about this as the God-King walks you around the dummy, pointing out choice points with which to press a threatening knife.  
“But won’t we be at a stalemate? I won’t be able to do anything and neither will my enemy. I would have to kill them because if I backed off they would overpower me.”  
“I wouldn’t worry. There is very little chance you will be sent out on missions alone. If you can incapacitate a foe without injury one of your teammates would back you up. Most people go very quiet once their life is threatened so intimately, you could hold them while your ally cuffs and gags them. And then you have another asset to take back with you.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well, information is power, little one. And all captives talk eventually.”  
You give him a funny look.  
“You’ve done stuff like that before, haven’t you?”  
“Someone has to and most don’t have the stomach for it. Most warriors believe in honourable combat, seeing the whites of a foes eyes and so on and so forth. They do not think how their general obtains their information and if they do, they do not ask. Better to live in ignorance than stare into the abyss.”  
“But not you.”  
“There is no honour in war, child. Anyone truly touched by its horror knows this truth in their heart. Best to get it over with as quickly as possible and with a few casualties as you can manage.”  
He looks at you sternly. 

“You want a lesson, child? Then listen well. Torture is a tool, nothing more. It should be wielded with care and used only if absolutely necessary. If you wish to drive a nail into a wall there is no point hitting out blindly in the hope of striking true. You find the right hammer, one that will do the work quickly and then you select the correct nail from the pile. You do not grab the first one that comes to hand, it may bend or break, it may shatter the plaster and destroy all you have worked towards. Finding the right nail to hit is as much of an art form as finding the right hammer to strike it with.”  
“I think I understand the analogy.”  
“And you must always remember that a person under torture will say anything, anything at all to make it stop. If you wish to gain the truth then you must be sure the person has the truth to begin with. If you wish to bend another to your will, then you must be aware of how much pressure to apply to stop them breaking. If you wish them to perform an act for you, then you must be sure they know how to do so before you start – because I guarantee they will swear blind they know how to do it, even if they do not know the first thing about the task and you waste everyone’s time.” 

“What about confessions?” You ask flippantly to hide your horror. “They always do that on the television.”  
“Then they are fools. An innocent man would cave in and agree to take the blame for any heinous act when put to the knife. Or they will sell out their children, their wife, their parents – whoever you wish them to implicate. And they will lie purely to make the pain stop.”  
“This is getting pretty dark.” You say, touching the gel thoughtfully.  
“Again I wouldn’t worry. HYDRA will have many people here more than willing to go through with the act. You would never have to burden yourself with such moral judgements.”  
“But it’s good to know, right? Because HYDRA probably doesn’t have those morals judgements, so if I’m going to offer someone up, for my own peace of mind, I have to be sure.”  
“If you are uncertain, let the knife slip. It is kinder.”  
You nod. 

“You know, it’s getting harder and harder to remember I’m just a kid. If someone had told me six months ago that I’d be talking torture techniques with a god from another world…” You shake your head.  
“If someone had told me three years ago that I would be permanently banished from Asgard because of a few stupid actions spanning just a handful of months, I would have laughed at them and told them they had drank enough for one night.” The God-King smiles down at you. “If they had told me I’d be talking with a fourteen year old mortal about torture tactics I would have sent them to have their head examined.”  
“How’s Howard’s Child doing?” You ask casually.  
“He’s off on one of his own projects for the moment. He’s made his point and he’s content with my work.”  
“Good, because if you want to get back in my good graces, there’s a few things we need to straighten out.”  
“Oh?” And he puts so much threat into such a small word, it makes you wince.  
“Please, Majesty, you owe me this much.”  
He looks down at you impassively until you look away in fear. He knows how much that expression terrifies you and he waits until you’re about to backtrack before nodding in agreement.  
“What do you need to know?” He asks politely.  
You take a deep breath and bite your bottom lip nervously.  
“There are some inconsistencies I need to clear up.”  
“My, that’s a long word.”  
“You need time to go and look it up?” You ask and he laughs and then his expression falls.  
“Don’t push me, child.” He warns ominously. He backs it up with a spark of pain and you take a few steps backward. Playtime is definitely over. 

“I just…” Your voice sounds terrified so you stop and clear your throat. You take a few deep breaths and then continue. “You owe me this.”  
He pauses, considers and then nods again.  
“Ask away.”  
“Just answer true or false, right? I don’t need detail, but I need you to be honest.”  
“Very well.”  
“You were king of Asgard.”  
“Truth.”  
“And your brother accepted it until he found out you’d lied about your father being dead.”  
The God-King pauses.  
“Truth.” He says eventually.  
“And then he came back to depose you.”  
“Child, where is this going?”  
“Just keep with me, okay?”  
“Very well, but you’re testing my patience.” He sighs. “Truth.”  
“Because he was deemed worthy.”  
Another grimace.  
“Truth.”  
“But your dad was alive and you’d just saved him from the King of Jotunheim.”  
“Truth.”  
“So what I don’t get is why Thor threw you off the Bifrost. I mean he’s just been found worthy, he’s the true heir, your actions, while immoral, can be explained due to his mortality and the war you were trying to prevent. It just, it just bothers me is all.”  
“And how am I supposed to answer your question?” The God-King asks drily. 

“I didn’t believe you about Howard’s Child. It seemed too convenient an excuse for your actions and then I met him and I see what he does to you and I started questioning your answers to stuff. When you talk about your past it all lines up until that point, to the moment Thor throws you off the Bifrost – and then you’ve given me several different answers about what happened next.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well first you tell me you were saved by the Chitauri and that you agreed to work for… him… And then you admitted that you have no real control over the Chitauri, but that you have an agreement with them. An understanding. But in Vanaheim you told me that you went to… him… of your own free will because of a fight you had with your dad. But you haven’t seen your dad since he dropped into a coma, right? So where does it all fit in?”  
“I…” The God-King looks thunderstruck. “I don’t know.” 

“I mean, when you first met me you acted like you’ve never met mortal before at all. You treated me like a young Asgardian and you almost kill me. But in our later talks you admit that you’re familiar with my world – so much so you have taken on mortal friends before. So how does that work?”  
“I was confused for a time after the first battle, it is true. I treated you that way because I needed to see someone else suffering more than I was. I needed to make something scream and you were a valid target.” The God-King shrugs. “I make no apologies for what I did.”  
“But you had a plan, even in all that confusion. You knew that something wasn’t right.”  
“I knew, but I couldn’t stop them. They were in my mind, in my thoughts, in everything I did. I had to obey. I had to. You can’t understand…” He stops and looks at you. 

“Yes, I can.” You say softly. “And that’s the point isn’t it? You needed someone to understand and so you took me and you tortured me like they tortured you. I mean we’re both talking civilly right now, but if you decide to end the conversation, it’s over. If you decide to hurt me, you can without any warning. If you decide you’ve had enough of my snark, you could beat it out of me, easy.” You step back up to him and he searches your face, uncertain and a little afraid. “The circle and the wires, it’s important, but you could have given it to anyone, to any child. That wasn’t the main purpose for taking me on. You wanted someone to understand, through any means necessary, what you were going through. Because your brother never will and you father will always blame you for what you do here.” You take a deep breath and force yourself to continue. 

“You took my name, Majesty because you needed someone to know, unconsciously you needed someone to understand, what it was like to have your memories stolen.”  
He takes a few steps back, his jaw working as he tries to contain his emotions.  
“Your brother did not throw you from the Bifrost, Majesty. Something else happened, something important and you need to remember what it is. It’s why you’re here, it what formed you into the person you are now. But he’s taken it from you, Majesty, turned you against your family and you need to remember why.”  
“Shut up.” He waves his hand and your jaw slams shut. “Just shut up, you stupid little thing.” He glares down at you. “I was betrayed because nothing I could do, nothing I could say, would ever impress my father. Thor was his child, his golden boy and me? I was just a spare, a plan, a stolen relic. Something taken away to be used later for his own selfish ends.” He starts to stalk forward and you back away hurriedly. “I was just a baby when he stole me, weak and helpless and alone and he never told me. He made me believe I had a chance, that if I just worked hard enough I would be good enough for him.” He backs you against the wall and you can feel him pressing against your mind. 

“I even tried to kill the entire Jotun race for him.” The God-King is shouting now, he throws his arm out to the side in a gesture of fury. “To show him how much I loved him and in return as I hung off the Bifrost and pleaded with him to understand he looked at me with such sadness, with such contempt. And I knew, I knew I would never be anything other than a failed experiment in his eyes…” He stops and you both look at each other.  
“You little sneak.” And he slams into your head so hard you do black out.

*

When you come to, you’re stood at the doorway to the kitchen. There’s a child on the floor by the breakfast bar, squirming slowly in agony. They’re very near death, they should already be dead, but they’re fighting valiantly against your brutal torture. You’d decided to kill them, that you’d had enough of their backchat, of their infuriating defiance. That a child should speak in such a way to you, a creature barely aware it was alive, an entertainment allowed to live because of a simple whim on the battlefield... You’d been reasonable, given them a last meal, even their request for coffee and then you had begun their execution. They had tried to beg your forgiveness, but you had already decided their fate. You were going to cut out the circle in their palm, reset it, give it to another, more willing victim. Cut your losses before you waste too much time, before the wires dig in too deep and you cannot stop the process.

But as you watch them fight, you feel something stir inside you. A primal emotion. A connection between you and this defenceless creature writhing on the floor. There has already been so much death, so much suffering in these last twenty four hours and here is a child’s life which is completely in your hands. A helpless being who relies on you, who needs you. Who depends on you. You’re responsible for their life and their wellbeing, they did not choose to be here. You kidnapped them, you stole them, you shaped them and now you’re going to kill them for a few words said in jest? 

Without thinking you find your fingers gesturing to cancel the spell and you take the knife in your hand and press it to their soft throat, threatening them to obey you. And they do, they give in to you utterly. You pretend not to care, but it breaks your heart as you watch them crawling forward, trying to do as you command with the very last of their strength. And you know what it would be like to walk into a temple after a great and terrible slaughter and come across a baby, innocent of any crime, but sentenced to die all the same. A victim of circumstances beyond their control. You understand why you would take that child in the hope of using them to resolve a war they are too young to comprehend and had no hand in creating.  
“My stolen relic.” You whisper softly but the child does not hear you. 

You go to the fridge and fill a bowl of icecream, weaving a spell as you do so. You pick up the child, still crawling, from the doorway and take them to the couch. They cower away from you, so close to death they cannot even cry, cannot even whimper. Yet you feel them begging you, pleading with you to have mercy. To not finish what you started. You order them to open their mouth and they pull away making soft pitiful noises. They freeze with terror when you speak with them sharply and they lean forward into your arms, desperate to appease you, to keep you happy. At this moment they would do anything, anything at all to convince you to spare their life. You could so easily bend them to your will, destroy the young, bright, sarcastic child with a few harsh actions or well-placed words. But instead you relent. You have stolen so much from them already, you have no right to take away who they are. Or who they might become.  
“Open your mouth.” You command again. After a second of hesitant fear they do as you ask and you start to feed them the icecream.

*

You come around on your hands and knees before him on the training room floor.  
“Do you understand now?” The God-King asks sarcastically. “Do you feel vindicated?”  
“No.” You say softly. “But thank you.”  
“Whatever for?”  
“For bringing me back from the edge.”  
“A moment of weakness, nothing more.” He waves a hand dismissively.  
“No, it was a moment of clarity.” You look up at him. “After that you introduced me to Mr Stark. You started to use me, to teach me and mould me. You gave me my life back. Before then… before then… I was losing my mind. I was trapped with someone I couldn’t escape or reason with. A conquering monster who tortured me for fun or to manipulate others. I was turning into an animal and my sarcasm was my only defence. You were breaking me, Majesty, crushing me under my own inability to fight. There was nothing I could do to stop you, nothing… and I hated myself because of it, hated how weak I was, how useless. But then you showed me mercy and allowed me to begin rebuilding my life.”

“I wasn’t kind.” He points out softly.  
“No and you were not fair. But suddenly there were rules. There was a path for me to follow. Precarious as hell, a dangerous as a tightrope, but a way all the same. There was a chance I might live, that I might keep myself whole and that was all I needed.”  
“Then I suppose you are welcome.” The God-King sighs. “And look how you have grown, staring me down and talking me out from my own feral madness. Less than a month ago I would have eaten you whole.”  
“Apology accepted.” You say drily and he laughs.  
“Thank you.” He says in a sincere voice. “For bringing me back from the edge.”  
“You’re welcome.”  
“I have to go now. I need to think while I have the chance, while Howard’s Child is away.”  
“You know where to find me.”  
“I do.” He smiles down at you. “I’m glad I spared you.”  
“I’m glad you did, too.”  
He shimmers out of existence and you stand with your knife still in your hand. You look at the dummy speculatively and start practising the various ways to incapacitate without breaking the skin of the gel layer.

There are many ways to fight a stronger foe and not all of them have to draw blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, deadlines are all pretty much down and dusted, but I'm going away this weekend for some well earned R&R. I will try to get the next update sorted for Friday morning, but no promises. However once Tuesday comes around I am free to update at my usual rate of a couple a week. I can't tell you how hard it's been not to write the next chapter, this scene has been rattling around my head since the beginning of the month. So do not worry, I have not backed out on you - this fic will get finished. 
> 
> Thank you all for your comments and your kudos, it keeps this monkey typing. :)


	30. Saving The Scarlet And Smoothing Silver Feathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quicksilver gives you a hard look as if he’s trying to work out whether you’re lying or not. You just give him a faint smile and pick up the soldering iron again.   
> “Well, if you’re just visiting, it’s nice and all. But I want to get this done by tonight.”   
> “Me and Wanda, we...” He shrugs as if he’s saying the most casual thing in the world, but his voice is strained. “We wanted to apologise for the way we’ve treated you.”  
> “Oh?” You lean forward and reach of the next resistor you’ve carefully laid out in preparation. “And here’s me thinking we were cool.”  
> Quicksilver moves and suddenly the resistor isn’t there anymore. You sigh as he stands at the other end of the room, turning it in his hands.   
> “Really?” You says in quiet exasperation.  
> “They say that you’re an experiment, like us. That a conqueror from an alien world put something in you to see what would happen.”  
> You shrug.  
> “It’s near enough the truth.” You agree. “Can I have the resistor back now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this update took as long as it did. 
> 
> The last half of this month has been a traumatic hell for me and as a result I suffered the worst writer's block I've had in years. This chapter is shorter than normal, but took me forever to get out on the keyboard, pulling teeth isn't as hard as this seemed to be, and trust me I've had a few wisdom teeth out in my time...
> 
> Let's just say I hate my Ex and hope I never see them again... Okay, that's all the detail you need... 
> 
> *Sighs and straightens tie in a business-like fashion.*   
> Right...
> 
> Summary: Where Quicksilver tries to mend some bridges and the kid tries to make things good between them. But the God-King interferes as usual.
> 
> Triggers: Slavery, references to necrosis, Loki is a sadistic and mean bastard. 
> 
> Enjoy and I hope the triggers don't put you off, I've tried to make the references as brief as possible.

*

You love the smell of solder, you really do. It’s something you’ve never encountered before and the weird hot reek when you start putting together a circuit board is strangely satisfying in and of itself. It gets everywhere as well, in your hair, in your clothes. Sometimes you don’t shower just so you can wake up smelling like a job well done. It brings you far more comfort than it should. It also takes a good eye and a steady hand to get the soldering just right. Too much and it blobs, which can mess with conductivity, too little and you don’t connect the circuit properly. It’s a skill set you never touched on before, working out resistor band codes and working in watts and amps and ohms. Mr Stark is going to be thrilled if you ever get back and show him your progress. Maybe he’ll give you lessons in robotics. That would be incredibly cool.

You hear the door go, but don’t look up. You felt Quicksilver’s mind a few corridors away. It’s something you’ve been practising, just letting your mind roam a little while you do physical work with your hands, tasting and testing people. You cast a net about thirty feet around you and then just see who walks by. Mostly soldiers, a few scientists, not much of interest really. You don’t want to bury into their surface thoughts, you just let them ping, like dots on a radar, and your try to work out their intent from the passive emotional feedback you receive. If you were in a city, you’d burn out in minutes, but here the pace around you is really quite slow. Apart from the guards at the door, no one stays around for long and they always have a job to do. You rarely feel anything beyond a professional focus, so when Quicksilver walks into your net he sticks out. Pretending to be languid and unconcerned while a goal and a real, burning purpose bubbles underneath. He’s reluctant, unhappy, searching for you in an overly casual way. Something’s up, but you’re going to let him tell you what it is. 

So you don’t react as he walks up behind you, cat quiet and looks over your shoulder.  
“What are you doing?” He asks and you look up.   
“Oh, hey. I didn’t see you come in.” You say and he smiles.  
“No one sees me coming.” He answers.   
“Guess not.” You put the solder carefully on its stand. “I’m making a boat.”  
“It doesn’t look like a boat.” Quicksilver says. He starts walking around the room, glancing at the dog-eared books on electronics you’ve got sat on the table corner.   
“Well, this bit’s the horn. I finished the motor circuit yesterday. It doesn’t look like much yet, but it’s going to be a kick ass remote controlled boat when I’ve finished.”  
“Not many lakes in here.” Quicksilver grins at you mockingly.  
“Well, the book doesn’t have a car and talking my tutors into getting me wheels would be a drag anyway.” You shrug. “I can always use the sink.” 

You sit back, repositioning the sling over your right arm and make yourself comfortable.  
“So what can I do for you?”  
Quicksilver shrugs.  
“What happened to your arm?” He asks, picking up one of the technical books and flicking through it randomly.   
“Training accident.” You gesture to the circuit board. “Hence the boat.”  
You’re actually wearing a sling because the wires in your arm have started to connect with the wires in your neck and chest and it hurts like hell. You’ve had to jettison all the power you were holding in there in case it messes with the process and the HYDRA scientists have bandaged your shoulder tightly so you can hardly move it at all. They X-ray it three times a day and find the results fascinating. 

Apparently the wires in your chest are half way down the tricep in your left arm, but because no bonding was required you didn’t even notice. However, the two different sets from the two separate circles are meeting in your upper right arm and kind of welding together. It gives occasional burning sensations, followed by intense itching and every time you jolt it, sharp pins and needles go up your arm and down into your ribs. The burning comes when it feels like it, there’s no pattern at all. The consensus wisdom is you should keep the shoulder as still as possible and let the process take its course. The God-King, when questioned, just smiles his usual know-it-all smile and says nothing. The smug bastard. 

Quicksilver gives you a hard look as if he’s trying to work out whether you’re lying or not. You just give him a faint smile and pick up the soldering iron again.   
“Well, if you’re just visiting, it’s nice and all. But I want to get this done by tonight.”   
“Me and Wanda, we...” He shrugs as if he’s saying the most casual thing in the world, but his voice is strained. “We wanted to apologise for the way we’ve treated you.”  
“Oh?” You lean forward and reach of the next resistor you’ve carefully laid out in preparation. “And here’s me thinking we were cool.”  
Quicksilver moves and suddenly the resistor isn’t there anymore. You sigh as he stands at the other end of the room, turning it in his hands.   
“Really?” You says in quiet exasperation.  
“They say that you’re an experiment, like us. That a conqueror from an alien world put something in you to see what would happen.”  
You shrug.  
“It’s near enough the truth.” You agree. “Can I have the resistor back now?”   
Quicksilver moves again and the resistor is back where you placed it, but he takes the circuit board this time instead. 

“Did you volunteer?” He asks as he traces the copper on the green plastic board.  
“No. Why would I do that?” You put the soldering iron back in place and wait to see where this is going.   
“We volunteered. To get back at the Avengers, to get at Mr Stark.”  
“Revenge?”  
“Yes.”   
“For the bomb?”   
Quicksilver nods.   
“The God-King snatched me from the warzone in New York. Made me agree to serve him and then implanted the seed of whatever’s happening to me. I didn’t volunteer, he didn’t inform me of what was happening, but then I guess I didn’t say no either.”   
“Do you want revenge for what he did to you?” Quicksilver turns the board over and over in his hands, hiding his agitation badly.  
You think about your answer. You know what he’s looking for and you need the twins on your side.  
“Eventually.” You say at last. “I’m willing to go along with things for now, until a real opportunity presents itself.” You glance down at the circle on your palm. “And since he’s the only one who knows what’s happening under my skin I need him around in case things go wrong.”   
Quicksilver nods.   
“That makes sense.” He agrees.

“So why are you really here? I mean, I’m guessing it’s fun to steal my stuff, but those guards don’t usually let anyone in.” You gesture with your thumb. “So you must have got clearance.”  
“It’s Wanda.” He doesn’t look up from the circuit board, his voice calm and blank. “She’s sick.”   
“So? Get a doctor, there are plenty around here…”  
“Not that kind of sick…” He grimaces. “It’s because of what happened…”  
“Oh.” You say quietly, feeling your stomach drop. “Because of the attack?”   
Quicksilver nods.  
“We thought it was just fatigue at first. I mean he was strong, even I felt him prowling about. People have left – the few sensitive ones? Asked for transfers or were sent away half crazy.”  
“I didn’t know.”   
“Yes. No one was allowed to tell you.” Quicksilver sighs. “We were told to keep you stupid, in the dark, make sure you pulled through unharmed.”   
“So why are you telling me?”  
“It’s not just fatigue, it’s something else. Something bad. Something in her mind.”   
You don’t know what to say.  
“You want to come have a look?” Quicksilver asked with such forced casualness, you know his sister is in a very bad way.  
“Sure.” You stand and grab your coat. “Lead the way.”

*

The second you see her, you know something is badly wrong. You can feel it – a dark bleakness in her thoughts, like a rot slowly spreading. In your mind it reeks of death and necrosis, even though in the real world she looks uninjured. She’s pale, shaking, lying bed as if she’s got a mild case of jaundice or a very bad cold. Her breath is loud and rasping. She smiles weakly as you walk in.  
“I…” You say as you look at her slightly yellow-tinged skin and her sunken eyes. “I don’t’ know if I can help…”  
“Try.” Quicksilver says in a voice which brooks no argument.  
“This wasn’t my fault…”  
“No. But you need to fix it. This happened because you are here.”  
“I didn’t choose to be here.” You turn on him angrily.  
“Pietro, enough.” Scarlet Witch says softly, she reaches out to you imploringly. “Please. Please try…”  
You nod and walk up to her bedside.

“Majesty?” He doesn’t respond at first. His mind is busy elsewhere.  
“Majesty. I need you.”   
You look at the mess of Scarlet Witch’s mind and you know you can’t cope with this by yourself. Maybe if you had seen it straight away – but now? You don’t have the tools or the knowledge to stop the spread of the rot. You find the cause easily, a small incision in the centre of her shields, where the God-King’s bladed mind pushed its way into her head. His thoughts are poison, if that could be used as an analogy for the horror he inflicted in his madness. You once saw a documentary about snakes and their different venom types. This resembles the necrotic type almost perfectly, spreading out from the wound like corrupted blood vessels. And, like with making an anti-venom, you need a small amount of the source material.  
“Majesty!” You shout down the link and you’re rewarded with a stab of pain.   
“What is it child?” The God-King snarls. “I’m incredibly busy.”   
“I need your help.”  
“And I’m supposed to come at your beck and call, is that it?” He finishes the sentence with another inducement of agony. You shake your head and press on.   
“Just look at this, please. If you’re not interested, then fine.”   
You feel his curiosity, his main weakness when it comes to things of this nature. He slides into your head effortlessly as you make the opening for him and looks through your eyes. 

“Did I do that?” He asks after a short inspection. You show him the memory of this part of his attack with the claws that held her down and the sharp bladed attack against her person. You feel him wince.   
“Hardly graceful.” Is his only comment.   
“You weren’t yourself.”  
“No.” You feel him reaching out to Scarlet Witch and she gives a little moan of fear. You raise your arm to stop Quicksilver coming to her rescue. He stands at the door, moving from foot to foot, but doesn’t come any closer.   
“Can you help her?” You ask the God-King and he clicks his tongue.  
“She’s far gone. If this had been brought to me straight away, yes without question. Now? I’ll have to amputate and even then…”   
“Amputate?”  
“You see here and here?” He points out the worst of the black points. “These are beyond saving. If I leave them in the infection will just start again. I hate to say it, but I knew what I was doing.”  
“And what will that do to her?”  
“They’ll be memory loss, but nothing important, she’ll still remember her brother and you as well, probably. But she’ll forget some words, some parts of the grammar of her language. Quite a few early academic lessons…”  
“But she can be retaught?”   
“Oh yes, though the higher stuff in her mind probably won’t make any sense to her until she does. Building blocks of learning and all that.” He sighs and does the equivalent of rocking back on his heels. “Though it depends if I want to do anything at all.”

“What?” You ask shocked. “Why would you even say that?”  
“She’s your enemy, child. We’ve already agreed that if she gets the chance she’ll hang you out to dry. This solves at least one half of the problem.”   
“No. Not if she can be saved.” You say firmly and the God-King laughs at you.  
“You really haven’t learned a thing, have you?” He says.   
“This is your fault. You did this. Fix it.”  
“No.” And he goes to leave.   
“Majesty…” You’re almost pleading and he pauses, he looks between you and Scarlet Witch speculatively.  
“What will you give me?” He grins as he looks down at her. “What would she give me?”  
“Why don’t you ask her?”  
“I think I might. Establish a link for me.”   
You lift your strapped arm carefully and put your palm against her temple. The God-King disappears through it. Scarlet Witch’s eyes close and she begins to mumble. 

“What are you doing?” Quicksilver asks. His hands are clenching and unclenching in his agitation.  
“I’m running a diagnostic spell.” You tell him. “She’s really far gone and this is technical. You should have come to me sooner.”   
“We didn’t know if we could trust you.” Quicksilver says. “Or if you’d go running to the monster who did this in the first place.”   
“I may have to.” You tell him flatly. “He has far more expertise in this than I do.”   
Quicksilver moves and before you know what’s happening he has you by the front of your shirt.  
“You wouldn’t dare!” He snarls. “We have a debt of blood we’ll repay directly at his door.”  
“It all comes down to vengeance with you two doesn’t it?” You say, batting his hand away. “Life’s way more complicated than that.”  
For a moment you think he’s going to hit you, but instead he stand and looks away, smouldering in anger. 

“You just don’t get it do you? Sometimes you have to deal with your enemies if you want to get by. Survival is far more important than threatening or refusing to talk with the one person who might save your life. You live and things might change for the better. You die and that’s it, you’re dead, game over.” You smooth out your shirt. “Jeez, get some perspective.”   
“Do it then, call Him.” Quicksilver says in defeat.  
“I already did.”   
He glares at you and you shrug.  
“I made the best decision for her life. You can kick the shit out of me later.”   
“And that?” He gestures to his sister’s mumbling form.  
“They’re brokering a deal.”  
“But he did this to her, he owes her…”  
“Absolutely nothing, as it turns out.” You shrug. “Morals aren’t exactly his strong suit. You won’t get anything out of him by trying to appeal to his better nature.”   
“You know him well?”  
“Well enough. And for the record? If I could have saved her for free, I would have. I might be his monkey experiment, but I’m not anything like him. And if I’d known she was ill, I would have helped sooner.”   
“Why?”  
“Because we’re all we have. And if the God-King gets his way, there’s going to be fewer and fewer of us around.”   
Quicksilver digests this quietly.

“Child?”  
“Yes, Majesty?”  
“Get ready.”   
You brace yourself for what’s about to happen, even though you have no idea what it might be.   
“Give me a minute. He’s calling me.” You tell Quicksilver.  
“Has he made a decision?”  
“I guess so. We’ll find out soon enough.”   
He nods and waits.

The God-King comes out in a sudden flood and flurry of activity and you realise that he’s using your mind as a depository for everything he’s cutting out. With quick movements, borne of survival instinct, you take the corrupted parts as they flow into your head and package them separately from your own. If you don’t sort them now there’s every chance you might catch the infection. The God-King’s movements are as precise and decisive as always and it doesn’t take long for Scarlet Witch’s mind to be clear of the rot. Then the real work begins and you feel the God-King drawing on your energy to help him refine his process. He’s too far away for this level of detailed work, so he’s using you presence as a counter balance. You can also feel him putting things in as well, taking out the rot and creating something else in entirely. A cage, he’s putting a cage in her mind. 

“No.” You reach out. “You can’t.”  
“She’s mine now, child. She agreed.”  
“No. This is wrong. She’s only like this because of you.”  
“She’s like this because she was stupid. She should have run.”  
“And then I’d be dead. Her distraction stopped you from killing me. It gave me the time I needed to get to my room and talk you down. You have to take that into consideration.”  
“I did. That is why I am helping her.”   
“Have some compassion!” You scream at him and he stops in his work to look at you, really look at you. You feel his gaze right down to your very soul and you cower away.  
“Stop.” You say softly, your voice cracking with fear. “Stop.”   
“Should I have compassion?” He asks, his voice terrifyingly blank.  
“Yes. Please.”   
“For you or for her?”  
“For me.”   
“That’s what I thought.” And he goes back to his work while you sit there shaking and afraid. You’re completely ashamed by your answer, that in a moment of sheer survival you chose yourself over her. You feel dirty and complicit and worthless. For all your high words, it always comes down to survival and you will always choose yourself.   
“Concentrate.” The God-King snaps and you bring yourself back to the present and start to work with him. 

The cage is beautiful, gold and green and sparkling. He’s trapped her in a gilded prison, a little pet scarlet songbird he can put on his windowsill.  
“And so it is witnessed.” He murmurs, pleased with his work.  
“Have I got another sister?” You ask caustically and he laughs.  
“No, little one. I have given you a slave.” And he shows you the reins. “I expect you to use them.”   
You feel down the woven golden threads you now have at your control. They connect to the cage and will translate your desires into impulses she will have to follow. But they do not connect with the lock, you cannot free her. The God-King sighs when he feels you trying.   
“You’re so very weak child. Really, for someone so determined to survive, you make things very difficult for yourself.”   
“Part of survival is being able to live with your decisions.” You say as you pull back into your head, holding the golden reins. You can’t leave them in her mind, they’re connected to you in some way you can’t fathom.   
“A sweet sentiment. You’ll grow out of it soon enough.” The God-King smiles indulgently.

“Is there a way for her to buy her freedom?” You ask as you put the reins aside in a safe place.  
“Of course.”  
“Good.”  
“But she doesn’t know what they are. We made the agreement, but she didn’t make remembering it a clause, so I wiped her short term memory.”  
“What?!” You say, disgusted by him.   
“Oh, I have some scruples. If she behaves to your satisfaction the rules will come back to her, piece by precious piece. And disappear again if she disobeys.” He starts to go over his handiwork one more time. “It wouldn’t be fun otherwise.”   
“What if I let her remember?”  
“You can’t. I’m the final arbiter in this. Not you. If she disobeys then all of you will forget what she won. I won’t let you ruin this for me.” He looks at you sternly. “And don’t write it down or record it in any way. If you do I will make her destroy it and then punish you severely. This will work as I want it to work, you try to bend the rules and I will bring down judgement on your head.” You flinch at his tone and he nods in acceptance.   
“This is, this is unnecessary…” You tell him, trying one last avenue of argument.  
“How’s remembering your name coming along?” He asks you and you scowl at him. You feel the threat of pain and you back down, showing him your submission.   
“Please don’t.” You beg and he sighs and relents.   
“It’s all necessary, child. You’re just too young to understand.”  
“Or not jaded enough to need it.” You say with a final spark of defiance and the God-King laughs.  
“That might be true as well.” He agrees. “Enjoy your new slave. And I wouldn’t tell Quicksilver what just happened. He gets angry so very easily.” 

You come back to reality sitting on the floor by Scarlet Witch’s bedside. She’s stopped mumbling and her complexion is almost back to normal. You touch her forehead and see that she sleeping peacefully.   
“What happened?” Quicksilver is suddenly there beside you.  
“The God-King healed her.”  
“Why?”  
“Because I asked.”   
“You hold that much sway with him?”  
“Not always, but today – yes. Because she distracted him enough to save my life during the attack.”   
“And she’ll be back to normal?”  
“Some things will be different. He had to take some of her memories to remove the illness. Mostly basic lessons she learned at school and her short term memory’s gone, a side effect to the procedure.”  
“So she’ll still know who I am?”  
“Oh yes, and HYDRA and what happened with the bomb and everything else. But she might not be able to add up anymore, or she might have a limited vocabulary for a while.” You shrug. “It’s all relearnable.”  
Quicksilver gives out a relieved breath.  
“Thank you.”  
“Don’t thank me yet. It’s early days, we’ll see how she pulls through.”

You stand abruptly.   
“I have to go. This whole thing… It’s very tiring and very overwhelming. I’ll see you soon, okay?”  
“Okay.” Quicksilver stands and grins. “Need a lift?”  
“I’d rather walk.” You smile at him for the offer, but you can feel the shaking starting at your fingertips. You really need to get out of here. “Look, I’m going back to my room. Can you tell the guards were I’ve gone?”   
“Sure.” He frowns. “You okay?”  
“Just a reaction to the surgery. I’ll be fine after a lie down.” 

The tears come minutes after you close the door and head down the corridor. You let them fall, silent and unwiped to drip into your collar. Through the reins you can feel Scarlet Witch dreaming and they are pretty dreams, tailor made by the God-King himself. When your reach your room, you lock the door, sit in your chair and rest your head on your left arm, while making the right snug and comfortable against you stomach. You allow yourself to drift while your sleeve gets progressively wetter. 

You don’t know how long you stay like that but eventually your absence is noted and the guards come to get you for your next lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew.
> 
> Thank you for your continued reading and thank you for your patience. I will get around to answering the comments in the next few days, but I'm focussing on getting the next chapter out asap as you guys have waited long enough. 
> 
> See you soon, I give you my word...


	31. The Price For Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So I’m well enough to start training again?” You ask eventually.  
> “We’ve been waiting for you to get well. You’re more than capable of field work, have been for weeks, but we wanted to wait and see how the bonding progressed before we signed you up for active duty. Once the binding is removed you are to proceed to command for allocation and briefing on your mission.”  
> “What does that mean?”  
> “It means that Natasha is in trouble and you have been assigned to get her out. It appears that the HYDRA base where Ilya was stationed has more than one traitor. Most are dead, but there were enough for her to be taken captive. We could take it back easily, but it has been decided that it would be the perfect testing ground for your abilities. Low risk, back-up ready on demand and only a small amount of resistance.”  
> “So why hasn’t Natasha escaped herself?”  
> “It was one of our secret holding facilities. The cells underground are very efficiently built and somehow the guards were able to get hold of weapons that are incredibly good at incapacitation. SHIELD weapons, built by Stark Industries. Our intelligence was poor, the relevant people have been chastised for their failure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here it is as promised. 8,000+ words! My writer's block has finally shifted. *Does a happy dance*
> 
> Thank you all for the messages of support, they're really helping me through this hard time in my life, and thanks for all the Kudos, I love you all. :)
> 
> No real triggers in this chapter, that I can see, but I apologise if I've missed anything. Bad things certainly happen, but compared to other chapters? This one's pretty mild on the trauma and the nastiness. 
> 
> Summary:  
> The kid finally gets put on active duty and Natasha needs a hand.  
> The kid finds out they're a kick-ass operative.  
> But not everything goes as planned. 
> 
> Thank you for keeping with me in this time of hardship and the author apologises for any inconvience caused due to delays in this service. 
> 
> Enjoy. :)

*

You close your eyes, taking in deep, cleansing breaths. Your heart beat is strong, heavy and hard and filled with determination. In your mind’s eye you focus on the stylus and the tablet of soft wax. With firm decisive strokes you start to carve the rune from your desk in your mind. You don’t know why this image works, but it does. Something about the hard varnished edge of the stylus and the soft mutability of the wax takes away the sharp corners created by inscribing the rune. There are no sharp corners of course, at least not at first glance. This is a rune of the Bifrost and it curves dance in your mind like glittering pieces of the rainbow bridge itself. But the rune is not just two dimensional, it shimmers on so many levels and some of those levels are sharp enough to cut an unwary mind like a careless finger and a craft knife. It was why you couldn’t draw it before, you were trying to force a complex shape down into a flat picture. You didn’t understand the nuances involved, the rules you had to follow, like when drawing a three dimensional shape on a piece of paper. Now when you look at the burnt image on your desk you no longer see just the pattern the God-King made, but all the deep, insistent rules inherent in its creation.

This is a rune of control, of understanding a complete part of the universe. It was why you held the God-King off with it, because by forcing it between him and you, by using it through your connection you partially controlled him. This was because, at the time, he had not the will to counter it. If you had known then, what you know now…  
The next time he goes feral, you’ll be ready. 

Of course, this breakthrough wasn’t just your doing. Scarlet Witch, Wanda, has talents you can’t even dream of. The second she saw the rune she instinctively knew how to use it. Even though she didn’t have the power to hold it in her mind and no grasp of Asgard or the Bifrost, she told you how best to go about containing it and over-coming it. This meditation is the culmination of ten days of hard work and learning from both your pools of knowledge. You’ve got bruises, cuts and welts over half your body from you tutors – punishments for your lack of attention. But it’s strange, when the Captain had started caning you it had been unbearable, because you were convinced he was just warming up and about to do something even worse to you. The fear had accented the pain until you’d howled at the agony. Here, you know how many you’re getting, so you can wait it out and it’s so much more clinical. You’re never afraid for your life and so you can take the punishment easily. And somehow it’s worth it, every punch, every caning and every lash. You’ve given yourself to this project one hundred percent from the moment Wanda envisioned its outcome and the pain helps take the agony of the rune in your mind. Compared to the potential pain you’re playing with now, a lash feels like a gnat bite. And it grounds you back in reality, the physical pain diluting some of the mental anguish your untrained mind feels when playing with something this beautiful, this complex.  
This deadly.

You’re under no illusion that if you get this wrong, if the rune doesn’t wipe both your minds out of existence then the God-King will. But it will be worth it, it’ll all be worth it. 

Wanda’s behind you now, in your mind, shoring you up. She doesn’t have the mental fortitude you’ve built up under your tutelage with the God-King, nor does she have your level of dexterity. But her sheer raw power steadies you and buoys you up where by now you would have faltered under your own steam. Her talent is boundless, seemingly endless from you own limited stock. The God-King was right about one thing, she’d make a terrible enemy. But you’ve put all that behind you, united in a single cause and a single goal. 

The rune shimmers as you make the final incision. Exploding in a silent and blinding cascade of light as it comes into its true being. You hold it away from your core, panting and exultant.  
“Do it.” Wanda whispers, her mind stretched to full capacity.  
You reach for the reins without taking your concentration off the rune. You grope for them and secure them firmly, making a large bridge between your minds. You carry the rune down the link – an agonisingly slow process. One wrong thought, one slip in concentration and the whole thing will unravel and blow up in your face. It’s like carrying a large bowl of acid on your head. It’s too heavy to move any other way, but dropping it is unthinkable.

You reach the cage. You reach out for the lock. You focus your intentions diamond hard. 

“Magic of my magic. Drawn with my full will and my full intent. Heed my words – obey my command. Release her.” You say with unwavering confidence. You’ve been practising these words all week, finding the right feeling behind them – the right cadence to give the magic its true use and focus. You feel the rune shudder with understanding and it expands into a thousand glittering strands of rainbow coloured light.  
Around that light new runes appear, ones you have never seen before and cannot comprehend. Each one bursts into a glistening cacophony around your crafted spell. They push it apart, shoving some parts of your rune off to one side while engulfing other curves and removing them from existence, taking its being into themselves and extinguishing its explosive power. Within moments your spell has been carved into a million tiny pieces, burning like embers and flickering out into a fine, drifting ash. In moments, your carefully crafted spell has been destroyed. 

You close your eyes and wait for the God-King to descend, filled with wrath and punishment. For long minutes you and Wanda sit together, waiting for the shoe to drop, for the trap to spring. You’ve both pitted your magic directly against his, unwittingly attacking him as you wilfully disobeyed his wishes. But it doesn’t happen. Everything just stays silent and empty and dark. You both lie there, holding each other in fear, exhausted and wondering. Why hasn’t he? Why wouldn’t he…? There’s no way he doesn’t know what just happened…

“Thank you for trying.” Wanda says finally. You both disengage from each other, vaguely embarrassed and bone tired from your combined effort.  
“See you tomorrow.” You say with grim amusement.  
“See you tomorrow.” She answers with a smile.  
“Got any more ideas?”  
“Not right now. We’ll think on it.” She sighs. “Together we’ll break this.”  
“If he doesn’t catch us first.”  
“Pessimist.” She says but she shivers. “I need to let Pietro know what happened.”  
“He’ll think I botched it somehow.”  
“I know you didn’t.”  
“He still hasn’t forgiven me for lying.”  
“He’ll come around. He’s just stubborn, we both are. I know you were too afraid to tell him the truth straight away. He doesn’t know the Asgardian Threat like we do.” She refuses to use his name, neither of them do. It’s nice in a way, to box him up as an existential Threat, rather than facing him as something fierce and immediate and deadly. 

The vengeance kick really is comforting in a lot of ways. It gives you a buffer to plan from, far removed from the actual realities of the situation. When Wanda had come to you with the rune plan she had shown such conviction that she had somehow managed to overcome every doubt in your mind. You’d known it was foolhardy and dangerous, but that was vengeance was all about. It made it worth the risk somehow. And you couldn’t deny how quickly your knowledge had expanded because of it.  
You nod to her gratefully.  
“Thanks, Wanda.”  
“See you tomorrow.”  
“Yeah, I guess.” You exhale in frustration. “Sleep well.”  
“I will, don’t worry.”  
She moves to leave your mind and you let her go. You have to give permission or she can’t do anything. It’s annoying and restrictive, but neither of you can find a way around it. 

You come back to yourself in the dark. The lantern you lit has gone out, the spell must have taken you both hours to complete. You stand, groaning at the stiffness of your muscles and walk over to the light switch. Natural candlelight is somehow much more conducive to spell casting than artificial lightbulbs. Another suggestion of Wanda’s which worked wonders for your learning curve. You flick the switch and nearly wet yourself. The God-King is leaning with his back to the wall, one foot up against the bricks, looking at his fingernails with a studious concentration. 

“Enjoying ourselves, are we?” He asks without looking up.  
“As much as ever.” You say, fighting to keep your voice calm. You’re pleased you didn’t cry out when he appeared.  
“Someone just attacked your Scarlet Slave. If I hadn’t already put a little protection spell in place both your minds would have been cooked like a particularly unlucky lobster.” He continues to look at his nails.  
“Well that’s good then.” You nod, your heart hammering. “It’s good you thought ahead.”  
“Isn’t it?” He turns his hand over and looks down his fingers speculatively. “You want to know the interesting part?”  
“Go on.”  
“They tried to get through using the rune I gave you to learn. Now I know you can barely draw the thing yet and it’s Asgardian magic, well-guarded and almost unheard of outside my Realm.” He breathes on his nails and polishes them on the cloth of his coat. “So it’s quite a co-incidence… Don’t you think?” Why was he toying with you like this? You grope for an answer.

“Lots of people have been in and out of my room since you drew it and plenty of the guards have keys. They could have taken a picture of it while I was away…”  
“Hardly. Nothing your world can make could encapsulate the data of your rune into technological storage. It would burn out anything in this base that they tried it with. Maybe Tony has something, maybe his JARVIS. But anything else? I think not.”  
“Then I can’t help you.” You shrug.  
“I hope it wasn’t you, child.” He says with a deep sigh. “I hope it wasn’t you and the little psychic girl trying to circumvent my magic.” His voice makes it clear he knows who the culprits are. He’s going to turn on you at any second, but you keep playing along, hoping he won’t.  
“What would you do if it was?” You ask, trying to just sound curious.  
“Well I’d be impressed, obviously, that your magic abilities had improved so quickly. And then I would be terribly, terribly angry.”  
“Good job it wasn’t us, then.” You say, keeping your voice steady.  
“Yes.” He agrees. “I have woven some higher magic into the construct of that girl’s mind and some of the defences would flense you both before you even knew you were dead. There is no way for you to breach the cage, you just don’t have the knowledge. And the dangers… Well… I think I have said enough on the matter…”  
“I think you have.” You nod. “I’m sorry I can’t help you more.”  
The God-King looks down at you in amusement. 

“Then I’ll leave you to get some sleep. You appear to be extremely tired.”  
“I am, thank you, Majesty.” You bow to him. You decide to change the subject, a little deflection never hurt and really, you want to know the answer. “Majesty? How is Mr Stark?”  
“As annoying as he ever was. He misses you.” The God-King pushes away from the wall. “Do try to stay alive. For his sake if not for your own. I’d hate to have to break the news you killed yourself by accident during a failed magical experiment.”  
His hologram takes a step forward and disappears. You take a deep, shaky breath of relief.  
Well that tears it, no more messing around trying to help Wanda. Next time you try anything, he’ll kill you both and he won’t make it pleasant.  
You have been fucking warned. 

You turn out the light again, the darkness seems far friendlier. You walk across the familiar room, kick off your shoes and fall into bed fully dressed.  
You’re asleep within moments.

*

“Time to get up, little sleepy head.” You groan at the heaviness of your body, but you pull yourself up without complaint. The man who woke you is called Filo, he lives in the town and his job is to bring you food and a friendly face every day. He’s old, around sixty or so, with most of his teeth missing and a happy face that crinkles when he smiles. They assigned him to you for good behaviour after Natasha left. Sometimes in your darker moments you see him in your mind’s eye trussed up on a chair, blindfolded and gagged while Herr Strucker gives you the command to show your loyalty to HYDRA a second time. You’re becoming a cynic.

Filo has a change of clothes on his arm.  
“Should I wash?” You ask, glancing at the clean bowl of water by the side of your bed.  
“You slept in your clothes again?” Filo asked in a grandad kind of way and you look at your feet.  
“Yeah…” You say reluctantly. “I’m sorry.”  
“Ah.” He waves his hand to show he doesn’t care. “They work you too hard. I am always telling them this.” Filo grins. “Breakfast is on the desk, the guards are already outside and waiting. I will leave you to wash, yes?” He helps you get your arm out of your shirt because of the tight binding of your shoulder makes it impossible to do alone.  
“Thanks, Filo.” You smile at him and he nods.  
“You are a good child. I wish my children were half as good, half as polite.” He hangs the clothes on the back of your chair and leaves you to get on with things. “Herr Strucker has given his wishes to see you once you are ready.”  
“What about Russian?”  
“Cancelled. Everything cancelled today. Tomorrow as well.”  
“Really?”  
“Could be your big day.” Filo winks at you. “Anyway, can’t keep blathering away like two old women. You have work to do.”  
“I’ll be five minutes.” You glance at the warm plate on your desk, eggs on toast and you smile. “Make it ten.”  
“I will let them know.”  
“Thanks, Filo.”  
“Such a good child.” And he leaves as happily bustling as when he came in.

You eat first. Cold eggs are just disgusting and warm toast soaks up the yolk better. When Filo first arrived he’d told you he‘d been chosen because he could speak English, but he’d prefer it if you conversed with him in Russian. That had lasted all of two days. Your Russian was bad, really bad, like ‘never going to learn it’ bad. It just didn’t stick in your head at all. You’d go to lessons, think you’d got it and within an hour your pronunciation was gone and an hour after that the words were all messed up in your head. You couldn’t even keep simple sentences right. So Filo had taken the time to improve his English instead. His English right now was far better than your Russian would ever be. 

Once you’d washed – you’re allowed good soap and shampoo here – you put on your new uniform and put the old one on the chair for Filo to collect later. As soon as you step out of the door the two guards take up position, one in front and one behind, while Filo helps you get your right arm into the clean uniform. Then they leave him behind and march you off to where you’re supposed to go. You don’t know if they’re the same guards every day or on a rota because they always wear those weird gas-mask like helmets and they never talk to you. Ever since the attack you’ve been assigned two guards. As well as their radios, they each have a panic alarm that goes straight to command, just in case something goes down suddenly around you. They also have pepper spray instead of tasers as you could dissipate an electrical charge easily, but you have no defence against a physical spray. And the pain and difficulty breathing would make it hard for you to gather your wits for magic. You have to respect the efficiency with which HYDRA adapt to their surroundings. You’re a potential Threat as well as an Asset now. Maybe they assigned Filo to you because he’s expendable if you go off the rails…  
You’re such a cynic.

*

Herr Strucker is at one of the desks in the offices of the medical wing, looking through your file. It’s thick with papers now and you wish you knew what was in there. You haven’t seen Herr Strucker for ages and you feel a little uneasy as the guards usher you in and lock the door behind you.  
You click your heels together and bow deeply.  
“It is good to see you, Herr Strucker.” You say politely. “Hail HYDRA.”  
“Yes, yes, Hail HYDRA.” Herr Strucker gestures to the chair on the opposite side of the desk. “Sit down.”  
He waits for you to get comfortable before continuing in a disapproving and authoritative voice.  
“Ten counts of inattentive behaviour, resulting in an adequate beating to regain your attentions. Five counts of ignorant behaviour, resulting in ten strokes of the cane each. Two counts of insubordination, resulting in five lashes each. All within the last two weeks.” He closes the file with a loud bang making you jump. “Care to explain?”  
Great, you’re in trouble here as well. You’d love to tell him, you really would, a different perspective on the problem would be handy. But you can’t tell him, both for self-preservation and the fact that the God-King has made it part of the spell so you can’t tell him. Or anyone. Only you, Wanda and Pietro know what he did and none of you can speak a word about it. Even thinking about it makes you stutter.  
You take a deep breath and try your best.

“I’ve been… Uhm… The Twins and I, we made peace with our differences.” You rub the back of your neck nervously.  
“Yes?” Herr Strucker says, his tone demanding you elaborate.  
“Scarlet Witch had a theory that was interesting. She thought that with her raw talent and with my knowledge of how the God-King operates…” You sigh and look down at your feet.  
Even skirting this close to the truth is difficult.  
“Continue…”  
“That we might find a way to distract him, maybe even take him down, if he’s otherwise occupied…” You trail off and Herr Strucker looks intrigued.  
“Interesting.”  
“I mean, it wouldn’t be for long… He’d overcome it quickly, but any edge in a fight, right…? And he wouldn’t see it coming, he underestimates me all the time.”  
“And how’s it coming along?”  
“I think we’ve reached the end of our research for now. Not a dead end, but more a ‘proceed with extreme caution.’ We may have to think of something else.”  
“And this was why you have been so distracted these last ten days?”  
“Yes.”  
“Why didn’t you tell me your plan?”  
“Because we weren’t sure if it would work and, truth be told?” You look up at him and he nods. “I was so wound up in it I hadn’t even realised it was ten days. Apologies, Herr Strucker.” 

He looks at you hard for a minute and then opens the file at a different page.  
“And Scarlet Witch will verify your story?”  
“Absolutely, Herr Strucker.” Like she had a choice.  
“Very good. She will be asked. Pray you are right.” He finds his place and pulls out two x-rays of your arm. “As you can see the wiring around your shoulder seems to have fully connected. You will be seen by two doctors after this meeting to have your sling removed and your bandages unwound.”  
“Thank you, Herr Strucker.” You look at the x-rays and can no longer see the joins where your arm wires end and your chest wiring begins. If it wasn’t so physically real, if you could look at it from an objective stand point, you would marvel at the beauty of it all. But you can’t, so you don’t. But you do trace your finger over a few of the more prominent wires on the x-ray exposures with a deep sense of longing. Wishing it wasn’t you. 

“So I’m well enough to start training again?” You ask eventually.  
“We’ve been waiting for you to get well. You’re more than capable of field work, have been for weeks, but we wanted to wait and see how the bonding progressed before we signed you up for active duty. Once the binding is removed you are to proceed to command for allocation and briefing on your mission.”  
“What does that mean?”  
“It means that Natasha is in trouble and you have been assigned to get her out. It appears that the HYDRA base where Ilya was stationed has more than one traitor. Most are dead, but there were enough for her to be taken captive. We could take it back easily, but it has been decided that it would be the perfect testing ground for your abilities. Low risk, back-up ready on demand and only a small amount of resistance.”  
“So why hasn’t Natasha escaped herself?”  
“It was one of our secret holding facilities. The cells underground are very efficiently built and somehow the guards were able to get hold of weapons that are incredibly good at incapacitation. SHIELD weapons, built by Stark Industries. Our intelligence was poor, the relevant people have been chastised for their failure.”  
“Oh. Okay.” You don’t really need to say anything else about it. 

Herr Strucker looks at you intently.  
“So, how are you holding up with us, child?” He asks. “I know the change has been hard on you.”  
“I’m doing okay. Growing up’s hard, but…” You match a timid smile to his condescending one. “I think I’m getting there.”  
“Think you can kill on the field?”  
You nod. “If I have to.”  
“They say you favour the knife.”  
“Well it’s small, easy to conceal and if I’m honest I need to get in close. I know I don’t have much in the way of physical strength, not against a full grown, adult agent, so I have to use a little stealth, maybe a little trickery to get in range. I can’t afford to look like a threat until it’s too late, at least that’s what my tutors advised me…” You smile a little more confidently. “And I’m pretty accurate throwing them too.”  
Herr Strucker nods.  
“It’s good to play to your strengths.” He agrees. “And you should be aware that the traitors at the base don’t know about you. They’ve heard there’s a new potential subject being worked on, everyone has, but no one knows outside of these walls who or what you are.”  
“So I’m safe?”  
“As safe as you can be.” Herr Strucker closes the file more carefully this time. 

“I’m willing to overlook you indiscretions this last fortnight.” He says. “If what you are saying is true then you have been putting your skills to good use. I will be checking with the Twins and if your field work is successful, well, there will be no repercussions.”  
“Thank you Herr Strucker.” You bow your head politely.  
“Any questions?”  
“Yes. Erm… What does ‘flense’ mean?” The word’s been bothering you since your chat with the God-King. Herr Strucker looks at you in confusion.  
“Where did you hear it?”  
“Some of the scientists at my last testing mentioned it in passing.”  
“In regards to you?” Herr Strucker asks sharply.  
“I don’t know. What does it mean?”  
“To remove the skin and fat from an animal. Often though it just refers to the skin. Often with a sharp knife.”  
“Oh.” Oh shit. “Oh.”  
Herr Strucker gives you a distant smile.  
“Yes.” He says bluntly. “If anyone else uses that word around you again, come straight to me.”  
“I will. Thank you Herr Strucker.”  
“You’re welcome, child.” He gestures to show the meeting is over. “The guards will take you to medical.”  
You stand and click your heels together, bowing to him with your hands behind your back. You still won’t do the salute.  
“Hail HYDRA.”  
“Hail HYDRA.”

*

Being in a helicopter is nothing like being in one of the Chitauri ships. It’s shakier for one, noisier too, but far more exhilarating. You thought the God-King’s carriage was cool. Helicopters are something else entirely. On the average, this is way better. You’re not alone, there are three other soldiers along with the pilot. They’re your back-up if anything goes wrong and they’ll be around ten minutes away, tops. Special Operations, that’s how they were introduced to you. They were going to be sent in straight away, but someone in high command decided to give you a shot first. Low risk, low stakes, your brief is to be quick, to be silent and to not give yourself away. Not to get into any fights you can avoid. These three will mop up once Black Widow is out and both of you are safe and ready for extraction.

The helicopter lands in a clearing in the woods and you jump out. You’re carrying nothing but a belt with your knives slung over your chest and your favoured blade at a sheathe at your hip. You’re in combats with big heavy boots and a furry winter coat to keep out the chill. It’s night and you’re very far north. There’s snow on the ground. You radio is on your other hip and you have a small panic button sewn into the palm of your left glove, just in case the radio gets taken away. HYDRA are taking no chances with you. The other glove has a patch cut out to give you unrestricted access to the circle on your palm. The helicopter takes off again with the team. They’re going to be dropped somewhere else, at an undisclosed location, just in case. You’ll know of them, but not where they are if you get captured. The helicopter will be back here in two hours, giving you plenty of time to case the place and then make your plan. You’ve seen the blueprints, you know what you’re doing, but all the same, you might have to improvise. You take a deep breath and press off into the woods. 

As soon as you’re sure the helicopter is out of sight, you take off your combats and your boots, leaving yourself in thin grey trousers and a white t-shirt you put on underneath before coming out. You pocket your knife, put three of the throwing blades in the band of your trousers and cover them with the shirt. You dump the gloves and the radio, you won’t need them. If you have to call for back up you’ve failed anyway. Those soldiers probably have orders to take you out if the circumstances warrant it. You’ve no illusion about how HYDRA works or what they’re expecting of you. The only piece of kit you keep is your compass and map, which you’ll discard once you get within visual range of the building. Getting lost would be worse than embarrassing.

The night air is crisp and gorgeous. Half way through the walk you just stop to stretch and sigh and look up at the stars. It’s so cold the trees are covered in frost, but your breath doesn’t steam at all. You’re comfortable here, with the snow between your toes and the slight, freezing wind playing with your thin clothes. If you ever get out of this you’re going to go and find somewhere cold and frozen to live out the rest of your life. Somewhere no other human can go without freezing to death. The frozen stars are perfect and you’ve never felt so comfortable and free. You could get used to this.  
With a deep sigh of regret you press on towards your assignment.

*

Once you reach the building you stand at the tree line for ages, working up the courage to go closer. There are two guards standing at the doorway and your heart is pounding in your chest. What if this doesn’t work? What if they find the knives? You take a deep breath. You can do this. No one would expect a small, barefoot kid in inadequate clothing to be a ploy. And if they do you just need to touch them with your circle and you can get in their heads and sort shit out. You’ve been trained by the sneakiest bastard this side of the Nine Realms. You can do this.

You stumble forward. You don’t feel the cold at all, but you make yourself shiver as you move forward, pretend it hurts to walk. The first guard lowers his gun the second he sees you and slings it over his shoulder. He shouts to you in Russian, but you don’t answer. You just shake your head and force the tears to come. The second soldier radios into the compound and before you know it, you’re inside. They don’t search you, there’s a metal detector at the main entrance, but they take you into the office instead so you don’t go through it. One of them makes you a cup of hot weak tea and the other one sits down and tries to talk to you calmly. You just remember the last time you were scared out of your mind and let the tears flow. 

You wait until they are both completely relaxed and you gather the hot cup of boiling water in your hands. The first soldier sits opposite you while the second stands behind you, holding your shoulder comfortingly. You throw the cup of scolding hot tea in to the opposite soldiers face, then pull the knife from your pocket and stab up and hard, where you judge the throat of the second man will be. As the first man screams and falls to the floor, your blade connects deeply. You’ve hit the jaw, but it’s near enough. The man tries to reach for his weapon as you turn and step up on the seat. You know what you’re doing, time seems to slow and you’re so calm it’s frightening. You twist the blade and screaming man forgets the weapon as he tries to stop you. Using your full body weight, you put one foot against his sternum and push hard, knocking you both to the floor with you crouching on top of him. The move slams the air out him and the hand he holds on your wrist goes limp as he cracks his head hard on the concrete. You calmly pull out the knife and slam it firmly into his temple and the man grows still. The second soldier crawls forward, clutching at his burnt face and calling to you in confusion. You pull the knife from the first man and walk up to him. Your shoeless feet are silent on the cold concrete. You reach down and touch him gently with your palm. You find his mind and knock him out. For a second you hesitate. If he lives HYDRA will question him. So you reach into his mind again and stop his heart.  
“I’m sorry.” You whisper to them both. “I’m sorry.”  
But you know it’s kinder this way.

The office circumvents the metal detector and the alarm system. One door leads to the outside world and the other opens up behind the security checks. You guess it’s so that the guards can respond quickly and get behind any attacker stupid enough to try and go through the door. You take the keys from the first guard’s belt, clean your knife and inspect their weapons. They look like a truncheon, but are some sort of taser with a firing mechanism so you can hit someone from a distance. You turn them on and steal the charge, taking both batteries worth into your arm. You’re going to need it. You run your fingers over the Stark Industries company logo.  
You miss him too. 

Behind the security desk you find a feed to the cameras. You close your eyes and concentrate, you don’t want to blow all the electricity in the building as that could cause a shut down, but equally you don’t want to be recorded. There are no cameras in the guard room, but there are two out here and they will have recorded you coming in the entrance and out the other side of the check point. You can’t let them track you. When you are confident you can isolate the circuit, you force a charge through the wiring, feeling the system fry and each camera winking out, one by one. The one above you stops moving and the red LED goes out, but the main electric lights remain on. Someone may have noticed, but it’ll take them a while to work out exactly what just happened. And even then it only looks like a bad technical short out, not a tampering of the system. 

You stand and head for the furthest door on the right. You find the key that fits on the second try and enter the building proper. The security gets harder the further you get in. The building is designed to look like a rundown gulag from the bad old Russian days and so the security is low standard at first, but gets more HYDRA the more you progress. You have the key codes and a card for some of the doors, but when it gets to finger printing and iris scanning you’re going to have to hope that a quick jolt of electricity will fool it long enough to get by. You turn on your ambient mind reading radar skill you’ve been practising for weeks and walk forward quietly, scanning for any thoughts ahead of you.

You make it through three corridors and two of the key-coded check points before you feel the guard’s minds. They aren’t running around or panicking, but they are heading your way and one of them is shouting angrily into their radio. They’re pissed at the two dead guards messing around with a kid when they should be back outside. You don’t have to do anything to skim it off their surface thoughts, their anger is blatant and obvious. And they’re coming your way. You choose the nearest door, an office with the lights out and you fumble with the keys until the right one slides in and lets you inside. You close the door behind you and wait for them to pass.

“Well, look what we have here.” The voice is strong, sarcastic and American. You turn gasping. “Looks like we’ve got a lost kid in the facility.”  
A man of African-American descent is sat behind the desk in the dark. He has an eye-patch and seems to be in a long black leather coat. His expression is one that will not tolerate any bullshit. You reach for one of your throwing daggers.  
“Not a good idea.” He shows you the gun in his hand and puts it on the desk. “And if you’re wondering why you didn’t detect me with your little mind games…” He gestures sarcastically to his head as he speaks. “You have an Asgardian Prince to thank for that.”  
“Thor?” You ask uncertainly.  
“Loki.” The man says and you wince.  
“But why would he… And how do you know…?”

“You could call this a set up.” The man says, inclining his head. “We knew about this place and your benefactor knew there’s a good chance they’d send you here if Black Widow got compromised as a test run. Oh, and HYDRA put a tracker in you and we have the frequency. So we knew exactly when they put you in a helicopter to get here.”  
“Then why isn’t the God-King here?” You demand. “Why didn’t he warn me?”  
“God-King? Really?” The man sighs. “Quite an ego he has there, huh?”  
“Yeah. I guess.” You shrug.  
“Put the knives on the desk and take a seat.” The man gestures to the wooden chair at the other side of his desk. “Oh and if you think about using that electric charge you’ve got there. I should inform you that I’m wearing rubber soles.”

You grudgingly put your knives on the table, all of them. There’s no point messing around, he’s got you cold. Then you pull the seat back and sit down, facing him politely.  
“So you’re SHIELD?” You ask him.  
“Director Nick Fury, at your service.” He inclines his head mockingly.  
“And this is a rescue attempt?”  
“Yes and no. You get to rescue Black Widow, but you’re both going back to HYDRA.”  
“Oh. Okay. May I ask why?”  
“Yes you may.” The Director grins.  
“And will I get an answer?” You ask, still keeping your tone patient and polite. This guy has a gun on you, no need to antagonise him.  
“We’re not ready to get you out yet. But this seems like a golden opportunity to get intel off our operative inside, which we have you thank for, by the way.” He nods in recognition of you efforts to keep Natasha’s mind her own. “And, well, I wanted to meet the kid everyone’s been talking about. Alone and without any outside influences.”  
“So the God-King isn’t here?”  
“Not as far as I’m aware.” The Director shrugs. “But I hear you’d know better.”  
You concentrate, feeling your surroundings and the connection in your head. It isn’t active.  
“He isn’t here.” You confirm, nervous and relieved at the same time. 

“So.” The Director sits back and laces his fingers together. “I’ve been hearing all sorts of things about you. And Loki seems pretty interested in getting you back. I think if we sprung you he’d be more than willing to hash out a deal with us for your safe return. And word is that deal would be very generous.”  
“Word is?” You ask dryly. “That sounds like some pretty weak intel.”  
“Nah. I’m thinking it’s good. HYDRA are giving you field work and, no offense, but you’re quite the pip-squeak. They wouldn’t be using you if you hadn’t impressed them.”  
“Director.” You say quietly. “If I hadn’t impressed them, I’d be dead.”  
“My, aren’t you polite. And very astute. That’s a pretty accurate assertion for a what, fifteen year old?”  
“Fourteen.” You shrug. “Not that it matters.”  
“No. So, excuse me if I’m as suspicious as hell as to what Loki wants to use you for. Because, generous deal or not, if I’m giving him back his super-weapon, then nothing’s going to be worth the price.”  
“I’m not… I’m not a super-weapon, Director.”  
“How do you know?” He asks and for a moment you don’t know how to answer.

“See, I’ve met his brother and from what I’ve heard, Loki is the clever one. The Tactician, the guy who keeps everything close to his chest. So I’m guessing he hasn’t even told you what he did to you or why.”  
“I’m a…” You sigh, this hurts to admit. “I’m an experiment, Director. He stole some tech from his father and he’s using me to see what happens. I don’t think he knows fully what it does himself. I was just a convenient host body.”  
“And you believe that?” He doesn’t sound convinced.  
“Mostly.” You look at your hands. “There’s more to it, I’m sure. But super-weapon? No. I’m a tool he wants to use and not against Earth.”  
“Elaborate on that subject, if you please.”

You’re quiet for a long time and then you decide to take the plunge.  
“Look, I can’t tell you everything, he’d kill me. And I like being alive.”  
“Don’t we all.”  
“But this isn’t just about Earth. It’s about bigger things… Ultimately he’s trying to protect his home.”  
“Protect Asgard?”  
“Yes.”  
“From what?”  
You look down and don’t say anything.  
“Try and help me understand this.” The Director says, his voice softening. “Please.”  
“Earth… It’s incidental. He’s not here for his brother, or for vengeance, though I’m sure he’ll take it given the chance. It’s bigger than that, there are more things at play, stuff I don’t really understand, but the God-King’s been caught up in it all and he’s not a willing participant.”  
“He’s being controlled? Like the sceptre?”  
“Director, I can’t…” Your voice is filled with anguish. “I can’t tell you. He’ll kill me.”  
“Why?”  
“Because he’ll have to.” You whisper. “He can’t be kind, he can’t show me mercy. I have to…” You look away, kneading your hands nervously. “I have to be good.”  
“You’re scared shitless of him aren’t you?” The Director says quietly.  
“Yes.” You whimper.  
“But you want to go back to him?”  
“Yes.”  
“Why?”  
“Because he’s the best chance we have.”  
“Who has?”  
Your voice is hardly more than a breath. “Humanity.”

The Director’s quiet for a very long time. He just sits there looking at you while you look in your lap and fidget with uncontained energy.  
“Okay, let’s say I believe you. That you’re something he has planned for someone else in this galaxy. Then why’d he take the Tesseract?”  
“To make the portal.”  
“So he and the Chitauri are allies?”  
“Yes.”  
“And he’s traded ruling Earth in return for giving them the Tesseract?”  
“I don’t know, but if that was the case, wouldn’t the Tesseract be gone already? I mean the Chitauri are useful in taking Earth, but he’s well on his way now and if the portal can be made here, then why not just push the Tesseract through and then keep it open on the other side?”  
“It’s a good question.” The Director agrees. “You’re pretty smart, you know that?”  
“People keep telling me.” You shrug. “The God-King likes me to be clever.”  
“So it’s not just a trade, it’s something more complicated than that.”  
“Director, if there’s one thing I know about the God-King, it’s that everything he does is far more complicated than you think.”  
“Figures.” The director sighs. “Thanks for the heads up.” 

“So can I go now?” You ask after another period of protracted silence. You figure it’s one of the Director’s preferred interrogation techniques. Forcing the other person to fill the silence. Well you’re not playing and you’re tired of sitting here with a gun pointed at you.  
“In a minute.” He nods. “Just answer me a few more questions, okay?”  
You sigh. “Fine.”  
“Is Tony Stark still alive?”  
“Yes. The God-King is using him for something, for some sort of project. And no I don’t know what it is, it’s way too technical for me. But Mr Stark is well fed, in a warm safe cell and he’s given all the basic amenities.”  
“Has he tried to escape yet?”  
“No. Well not since I was there. He even went to Stark Tower and played nice. Didn’t try for his suits or anything.”  
“Loki let him in to Stark Tower?”  
“Yes.”  
“And Tony Stark didn’t try to be a hero?”  
“No.”  
“Give me a minute to try and picture that.”  
You laugh.  
“If he’d tried anything, the God-King would have thrown me off the roof. So Mr Stark played nice.”  
“Loki used you against him?”  
“Yeah. Mr Starks’s a bit of an ass sometimes, but he’d never let the God-King harm me. Not if he could stop it.”  
“So he’s using Tony’s altruism against him?”  
“I don’t know what that means, but I guess so.”  
“Does Loki have access to JARVIS now? Or the suits?”  
“No they agreed to leave them be. Mr Stark didn’t touch them and left JARVIS alone and the God-King did as well. He needs Mr Stark’s brain, not his suits.”  
“And you’re sure of that?”  
“Yes.”  
“How?”  
“We went in under Protocol Four.” You laugh nervously. “Mr Stark’s dating Protocol. We only went to the penthouse, a few of the guest rooms and the garage.”  
“His dating Protocol? I wonder if Miss Potts knows about that.” The Director shakes his head. “I’ll have to ask her.”  
“Sounds like it’d be an interesting conversation.”  
“It does. Protocol Four…” The Director goes quiet for a minute. “Thank you for the intel, kid. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” He leans forward and depresses an intercom button. “Bring Black Widow up for the hand over.”

“Director.” You say once everything goes quiet again.  
“Yeah?”  
“I killed two people to get here.”  
“You did.”  
“If I’d known… If I’d known that you’d be here, I would have just knocked them out.”  
“It doesn’t matter. Once you’re extracted, that kill team you were with are going to hit this place and murder everyone. We got volunteers who’ve agreed to stay behind and make it look good. They were two of them.”  
“Oh.” You shocked by this. “They agreed to die?”  
“Let’s just say that there are a lot of people who are willing to die to save the Earth. It wasn’t my first choice, but this conversation was too important to lose. And their deaths make everything look more above board when you come out with Black Widow.”  
“I don’t want people to die for me.”  
“Kid.” The Director shakes his head. “This is bigger than both of us. And a lot of people are going to be dead before the end.”  
“I guess.”  
“Hey.” He says and you look up at him. “Do you really want to go back to him? Really? We could help you out…”  
“At what price?” You grimace. “If he wanted to be here, he’d be here, Director. He’s not just in New York, he’s here, in my head. I can’t escape him, no matter where I go on this planet. So it’s just easier for everyone if I go back.” You shrug. “Just make sure you get a good price for me.”  
The Director nods thoughtfully.  
“You’re fully aware of your situation. I can respect that. Don’t worry, we’ll bargain hard.”  
“Good.” 

Natasha comes in at that moment, flanked by two guards. She looks suitably beaten up. You smile in greeting.  
“Hey, Natasha.”  
“Hey, kid.”  
“I’ve come to rescue you.” You grin stupidly.  
“So I see.”  
You grab your knives and put them back in place as you get off the seat. The Director doesn’t say anything.  
“Child?” You stiffen at the God-King’s voice in your head. You hadn’t felt the connection open.  
“Yes, Majesty?” You say out loud and you see the Director look at you sharply.  
“Tell the dear Director that I want to give him a show of good will.”  
“He says he wants to give you a show of good will.” You say and the Director frowns.  
“How?” He asks.  
“Go to the map on the wall. The one with the building blue prints.” The God-Kings says and you turn on the desk lamp so you can see everything properly. “Ask him for a pen.” 

You walk up to the map of the building.  
“Can I have a pen?” You ask and Natasha goes and gets you one without comment.  
“Now.” The God-King over lays the image with one in your mind’s eye. “Fill in the blanks.”  
There are several rooms in the picture in your head that aren’t on the blue print. You quickly add them with the notations that go with them.  
“Tell him that Ilya was a double agent.”  
“Ilya was a double agent.” You repeat dutifully.  
“What?” The Director snaps. He gets up and walks towards the map.  
“He was hiding HYDRA weapons in these places.” You tell him as the God-King continues to prompt you. “And the research HYDRA had of SHIELD’s tech breakthroughs. He was adding to the information.”  
“Then why was he killed?”  
“Because…” You pause while the God-King fills you in. “Shit, because one of your operatives found out and HYDRA caught them both. Ilya was killed because he was sloppy.”  
“Who found out? Did Ilya work alone?”  
“The God-King says he’ll give you that information once I’m safely back in his hands.” You shrug. “Sorry.”  
“How do I know this is sound intelligence?” The Director asks.  
“Because the God-King went into Ilya’s head and took out the information, just as I killed him.” You say flatly. “And the God-King wants you to know that you have exactly two hours to verify this and take or destroy the information held here before the kill squad gets sent in. So he advises you to be quick.” 

“Director, Loki really wants the child back. If he’s giving us this as a show of good faith, then I’d take him at his word.” Natasha says and the Director looks at her and nods.  
“We’re on a timetable people.” He says and the guards take a photo of the map and hurry away.  
“Tell him: Thank you.” The Director says gruffly.  
“Tell him, he’s more than welcome.” The God-King says dryly and you repeat it.  
“Oh and we want Tony Stark to do the hand over, when the time comes.” The Director says.  
“No.” The God-King says flatly. The Director sees your expression and gets the message.  
“We want physical proof he’s alive. We promise not to try and spring him out of captivity.” The Director lifts a hand in the air. “Scouts honour.”  
“Uhm…” You stutter. “Uhm… The God-King says he could send you a piece of him, if you want.” You bite your bottom lip. 

“We want to see him alive, and whole, or there will be no deal.” The Director says firmly. “Do we have an agreement?”  
“We’ll talk about it.” The God-King says. “When the time comes.”  
“Well, he doesn’t say no…” You translate awkwardly. “He says it’s something you can talk about later, once the time is right.”  
“Why doesn’t he just send a hologram and make this easier?” The Director demands.  
You pause at the answer.  
“So you know if you keep me then you’ll compromise yourself.” You say wretchedly. “Because he can sit in my head any time he wants.”  
“I see.” The Director gives you a look that might almost be sympathetic. “Well, kid, I think you and Black Widow need to be getting on your way.”  
“I do too.” You bow deeply. “It’s nice to meet you Director Fury.”  
“Sure.” The Director smiles. “I’ll be seeing you around.”

*

You’re back in your combats and boots when the helicopter arrives to pick you up.  
“Any problems?” The pilot asks as you and Natasha get in.  
“None.” You say. “It went smoothly.”  
“Good.” The pilot gives you the thumbs up and starts talking in his radio, you guess he’s telling HQ about your success. “Anything interesting we should know about?”  
“There are two dead guards in the security room at the front door. I guess they’ll have been found by now. But I managed to avoid the rest.”  
“You some sort of ninja, Kid?” The pilot asks flippantly.  
“You’d better believe it.” You grin at him in answer.  
“Natasha Romanov has been rescued, repeat Natasha Romanov has been rescued.” The pilot says loud enough for both of you to hear. “Minimal casualties.”  
You smile at Natasha and nod.  
“It’s good to have you back.” You whisper as the pilot turns back to his job.  
“It’s good to be back.” Natasha gives you a stern look. “God only knows what you’ve been up to in my absence.”  
“I made a boat.” You tell her.  
“What are you, a middle aged man?” She asks. “And where do you keep it?”  
“It’s in the sink, you’ll love it.” You smile and hug her briefly, just for two beats of your heart and then you pull back respectfully.  
“I’m sure I will.” She agrees with a smile.

The helicopter takes off and you watch as the forest disappears behind you. You give a deep sigh and Natasha grips your shoulder in solidarity.  
You wish you’d asked Director Fury for the names of the two soldiers you killed.  
It’s time you started keeping a ledger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for Director Fury and SHIELD *finally* getting in on the action. They've been working behind the scenes for ages, of course, but the kid now gets to see what's been happening while they've been surviving in HYDRA. 
> 
> I love plot, I really do. Fight scenes, snark and character development all have their place, but to roll out a big old chunk of juicy plot just makes me feel all warm and contented inside. And there is more plot coming in the next few chapters. You have been warned :P
> 
> However the snark will continue a pace and there will certainly be fight scenes and character development along the way. So all is not lost, dear reader. This typing monkey has a plan. 
> 
> Again, all the thanks in the world for the Kudos and the messages of support, I love you guys, I really do.


	32. Painful Truths and Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What do you want?” Quicksilver scowls at the door.  
> “I need to talk to you.”  
> “Then do it through my sister.” He says. “And leave us alone.”  
> “Come on, let me in.”  
> “Pietro…” You hear Wanda call out and Quicksilver scowl deepens.  
> “Fine.” He says angrily. “Come in, say what you have to say and then get out.”  
> “Thank you.” You say politely as you walk through the door.  
> You raise the bottle you brought in greeting. “You got glasses? I brought vodka.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long. I literally do not know where this month has gone. 
> 
> I mean, really. It's like someone just stole two weeks off me. I want them back damnit, where did they go?
> 
> Anyway... Here's the next chapter, I hope I get to make another update before the fairies steal my life again...

*

“It’s a nice boat.” Natasha agrees. “You paint it yourself?”  
“And varnished it.” You agree, smiling. “It’s remote controlled as well.” You show her the clunky box with the jury rigged bits of plastic for moveable controls. “I had to get a little inventive.”  
“So I see.” Natasha turns it this way and that. “It’s a good job.”  
“I even got one of the scientists to let me test it in their bath tub.” You say proudly. “It works like a dream.”  
“And now has pride of place in your sink.” Natasha puts it back in the bowl with a smile. The boat’s big enough to almost fill the entire basin. The sink itself is broken. It isn’t connected to the mains and all the pipes in your room are rusted through. But the ceramic’s still intact, if a little cracked around the rim and Filo managed to scrounge a plug and water so you could float it. Filo’s really good to you – you hope he doesn’t get caught up in the imminent attack. You’re going to have to work out a way to help him if he does, you owe him that much.  
“I don’t have anywhere else to put it.” You shrug. “And if it isn’t in water, it falls over.”  
You sigh.  
“It’s a shame I’m probably going to have to leave it behind.”  
“Not necessarily.” Natasha says thoughtfully. “I’ll requisition a backpack for you so you can keep it ready. You’ll need to make sure you’ve got a survival pack together anyway and it’d be a shame to leave it when you go.”  
“It is one of the few positive, non-killing things I’ve learnt here.” You agree. “But I doubt the God-King would want it, or be overly impressed. But he might let me keep it.”

“Speaking of him. He been treating you right while I’ve been gone?”  
“He sulked at first, but yeah, we made up.” You prod the boat and watch it rock on the water. “He taught me a bit of knife craft and what torture means.”  
“And what does torture mean?” Natasha asks in the overly casual way she has when she’s extremely interested in the answer.  
“That mostly it’s a big old waste of time.”  
“I wouldn’t have expected him to think that.”  
“Well, maybe he doesn’t. It was more along the lines of ‘be sure you mean it.’ Be sure you have the right person and the right tactics.”  
“That sounds more like him.”  
“And he showed me why I’m still alive. Why he decided not to kill me in the first few days he had me.”  
“I bet that was traumatic.” Natasha looks at you, but you don’t look up.  
“Not really.” You pretend to study a spot on the boat where the varnish seems to be uneven. “It was actually better seeing it from his perspective. Mine really sucked at that point.”  
“I’m sure.”  
You decide to change the subject. 

“Natasha, what does ‘altruism’ mean?”  
“Being nice and charitable. Not expecting anything in return. Why’d you ask?”  
“The Director said the God-King was using it against Mr Stark.” You scuff the sole of your shoe on the floor. “You know, because Mr Stark didn’t want me to get hurt.”  
“Well, it’s true isn’t it? Tony’s the last person who’d want to see a kid in pain.”  
“Yeah. I guess…” You let out a deep sigh. “I hate it.”  
“Hate what?”  
“That I can be used in that way. Hurting me to get to other people. It’s horrible, it makes me feel helpless and worthless and dirty.”  
“Why? You’re not the one doing the hurting.”  
“Because I can’t stop it. Because it’s going to happen to me anyway. I’m going to get hurt anyway. I’m a kid in a world where kids get hurt. Mr Stark shouldn’t let it get to him so easily. He shouldn’t let himself get manipulated to easily.”  
“Tony knows what he’s doing. And you said yourself there are some things in this world you won’t compromise on. That if they happened to you, you’d try to make them right. You’d try and keep your conscience.”  
“Sure.”  
“Well Tony’s the same.”  
“But it makes him weak.”  
“It only makes him seem weak. But taking a stand, even when it looks hopeless, even when there’s only a small chance of getting the right outcome? That’s real strength. And if Loki has to use you to keep Tony in check, it doesn’t say much about his hold over Tony, now does it?”  
“I suppose not.” You think about it. “So you’re saying that the God-King has no real control over Mr Stark at all.”  
“What do you think?”  
You consider all the times you’ve seen Mr Stark and the God-King together. How crazy angry Mr Stark makes him and gets away with it nearly every time. You smile.  
“I think you’re right.”  
Natasha grips your arm in a friendly gesture.  
“Feeling better?” She asks and gives it a little squeeze. You nod.  
“Much better. Thank you.”  
“Good, because we need to talk tactics.”  
You nod and go to sit on your bed, ready for a meeting. 

Natasha goes and sits on the chair at your desk. She picks up a folder that looks identical to all the other HYDRA ones she’s been looking through. She opens it and flicks through it, thoughtfully.  
“So what do you need me to do?” You ask.  
“You know the North Tower?” Natasha asks.  
“No.”  
“We’re close. Here, I’ll give you the directions.” She hands you an A4 map of your floor and the few above it in this quadrant of the fortress.  
“Okay.” You say, studying it intently. “What’s there?”  
“A particle wave generator.”  
“A what?” You look up at her frowning.  
“The thing that makes the force field around this building.” She explains.  
“Oh right.” You nod. “You want me to…” You raise your palm.  
“It’s the easiest way to solve the issue.” Natasha agrees. “And SHIELD really wants to see how HYDRA did it. So if you don’t blow it up, that would be really appreciated.”  
“I can do that.” You smile.  
“Good.”  
“Will it be heavily guarded?”  
“Not as many as there could be.” Natasha grins. “We’re bringing in some heavy support. It’ll draw a lot of people out to more important areas. HYDRA have a lot to hide here and the force field isn’t one of their biggest secrets.”  
“Okay.” You nod. “But I’ll be ready for some opposition.”  
“Always the best course.”

Natasha stretches her legs out and sighs.  
“Then there’s the twins of course…”  
“They won’t be an issue.” You say without thinking.  
“They won’t?” Natasha looks at you.  
“Just trust me, okay?”  
“Loki?”  
“Uh-huh.”  
“Say no more.”  
“Though Quicksilver might go off the reservation once he realises what’s going on…” You click your tongue in thought. “Have I got anything else to do today?”  
“R&R. For both of us. Perks of just coming back off a mission.”  
“Okay. Good. I’ll have a talk with them.”  
“You think you can get through to them?” She looks sceptical.  
“I know I can.” You swing your feet. “No offense, Natasha, you’re good at your job. But you’re the wrong type to get through to them. Ex-Avenger, ex-SHIELD spy. You’ve been there, done that… But they don’t trust you and they think you’re full of it.”  
“Nice. Honest.” Her lips quirk in a smile.  
“Yeah well. That’s my specialty.” You grin. “Whereas they still don’t really get me. I’m younger than they are and only possibly a threat. They’re still convinced they’ll get one over on me eventually. And we’ve been screwed over by the same Norse God, so they’re amenable to my opinions.”  
Natasha nods.  
“It makes sense.” She agrees. “All we need is for you to keep them busy or apathetic for the first hour of the operation. You think you can do that?”  
“I think I can do that.”  
“That’s all I need to know.” 

“So how is this going to go? How are we going to keep in touch?”  
“Well…” Natasha sighs. “This is where it gets complex.”  
“Okay. Break it down for me.”  
“Fury doesn’t trust you.” She grimaces. “… Well not you… but you get what I mean.”  
“Sure.” You nod to show you aren’t offended.  
“So the only contact you’re going to get is through me via Loki.”  
“Oh.” You bite your bottom lip. “Won’t that compromise you in Fury’s eyes?”  
“I’m already compromised on half a dozen levels.” Natasha sighs. “But Fury trusts me. We know each other and he knows that our goals and Loki’s goals meet in this instance. Once we get out of here, things are going to be difficult for me for a while. But nothing I haven’t come across before.”  
“That’s good.”  
“And he’s going to get the twins out of this, so I’m the least of his worries.”  
“You sorted out a good deal then?”  
“An excellent deal. It was hashed out a few hours after we were safe back here.”  
“So when’s it going down?” You say, studying you map again.  
“Tomorrow.”  
“Tomorrow?” You look up, startled. “But that’s… That’s real soon…”  
She nods.  
“Best time to do it, while they’re still looking through our debrief and think everything’s in a lull. Getting me back was a major win as far as they’re concerned. HYDRA think they have SHIELD on the back foot in this part of the world and that suits us just fine.”  
“Shit. You get up off the bed and start putting your shoes on. “Guess I better get the twins on message a soon as I can.”  
“I won’t wait up.” Natasha gets up to go back to her own room. “Good luck, kid.”

*

“What do you want?” Quicksilver scowls at the door.  
“I need to talk to you.”  
“Then do it through my sister.” He says. “And leave us alone.”  
“Come on, let me in.”  
“Pietro…” You hear Wanda call out and Quicksilver scowl deepens.  
“Fine.” He says angrily. “Come in, say what you have to say and then get out.”  
“Thank you.” You say politely as you walk through the door.  
You raise the bottle you brought in greeting. “You got glasses? I brought vodka.”

“So, what do you need?” Wanda asks once you’re all sat around a small table with mismatched glasses. She and Quicksilver are sat in a battered leather couch and you’re opposite, on an arm chair which has seen better days.  
“I’ve come to tell you in person that I can’t help you anymore. The God-King came to me after our attempt to free you. He didn’t hurt me, but the threat was clear.”  
“How clear?” Quicksilver demands.  
“Kind of – ‘You do that again and flensing will be involved’ kind of clear.” You say and take a sip of your drink. They both know what flensing means because Wanda goes pale.  
“But… I can’t live like this anymore…” She says her voice breaking.  
“You get used to it.” You say sighing and shrug at their expressions. “You do, trust me.”  
“Loki’s pet…” Quicksilver hisses and you nod.  
“Yeah, that’s me. But like any puppy I didn’t get to choose who bought me from the window. If animal charities had any sway left, the God-King’d be fined and in prison right now. As it is, you sit on your square of carpet and you’re glad that he still keeps feeding you…”  
“But you’re free here.” Wanda points out. “Here your talents are appreciated.”  
“Yeah, about that…” You sit back in your seat. “You do realise that we’re all going to die if we stay here right?”  
You drink your first glass while they sit there in silent surprise and pour yourself another. 

“What do you mean?” Wanda asks eventually.  
“You know the whole world is at war right now?” You say, staring into your drink. “And Enhanced Individuals are rare and precious commodities?”  
“We’re ready to fight.” Quicksilver says fiercely and you smile into your glass.  
“I don’t doubt it. But compared to the others we’re outmatched – and we’re outnumbered.” You put the glass down and start counting on your fingers. “Put it this way. The God-King Loki – who’s Enhanced himself – has Tony Stark, Captain America and Hawkeye. He also has all the research about Bruce Banner and his green rage monster abilities, which he might already be experimenting with. Weapons wise, he has the Tesseract, the Sceptre and an entire army of high tech alien bastards at his beck and call.” You sit back and sigh.

“SHIELD. Now I know that HYDRA have seriously weaken them, but they still have Thor, Crown Prince of the Realm of Asgard with over a thousand years of combat experience, magic armour, the ability to fly and can call down the lightening at will. They also have Jane Foster, who, if what Black Widow is telling me is correct, has solid research into the way Asgard travels between the worlds. If she cracks the formula, SHIELD will have the entire army of Asgard on their side. And as far as I can tell, Asgard are high tech alien bastards that put the Chitauri to shame.”  
You look around the room.

“And then there’s us and Black Widow. Three kids in a fortress in the middle of Russia, huddled behind a force field, waiting for the other boot to drop. And a Master Spy Assassin who’s been kept out of the loop for too long.” You look back at them. “And let’s face it, we’re all compromised. I can’t go against the God-Kings’ wishes, not unless I’m willing to lose my mind and maybe my life and Wanda’s in the same position. And since you’ve been messing with Black Widow’s mind, she’s on the wrong side of the fence as well. So there’s you Quicksilver and by yourself, you’re not enough.” You don’t call him Pietro, he hates you far too much for you to be familiar with him.  
“So we just give up?” Wanda asks.  
“No way.” Quicksilver says, downing the vodka in one blurred movement and pouring himself another. “We find a way out of this. You.” He points at you as he takes another large mouthful. “Help find a way out for Wanda.”  
“It isn’t that simple.” You say.  
“Make it simple.” Quicksilver replies and you just snort in contempt.  
“The last spell we tried took ten days to prepare. It held everything I knew about magic, along with all of Wanda’s talents and the God-King took it apart in less than a minute. I don’t have the knowledge, we don’t have the knowledge.” You look at him to show your sincerity. “That kind of know-how just isn’t on Earth. I’m sorry.”  
“You’re sorry?” Quicksilver snarls.  
“I’m sorry, yes. I wish I could do something for her, but I can’t.”  
“They’re telling the truth, Pietro.” Wanda grips his arm. “We need to work out a better plan.” 

“No. This kid is the plaything of Loki. They’re part of the Asgardian Threat. Listen to what they’re saying. It’s all pessimistic bullshit!” Quicksilver grabs your glass and throws it against the wall in rage. “The pet of Loki, friend to Tony Stark!” He stands over you, glaring down. “I bet you’ve even been in bed with the Captain, haven’t you? Passed around the Avengers like a party favour!”  
“Screw you.” You say, but sound more tired than angry. If this is his best attempt at getting a rise out of you, then you’re more than up to the challenge of ignoring him. “You want the actual truth, unvarnished, unsugared?”  
“Yes!”  
“You guys have got nothing on what the Avengers have been through.” You calmly take Quicksilver’s glass, slide it across the table and refill it. “Try giving up your life to a German scientist to fight in a World frickin’ War. Fighting on the front lines for years and then ending up frozen in the ice for seventy more, losing everything you ever knew or loved. Hell, try being an orphan born and raised to be an assassin. Having all your morals burned out of you until a guy comes and offers you a better way to live. A guy that was sent to kill you, by the way. Imagine having hope for a new life, a better future and then watching him get his soul taken over by an invading army and there’s nothing you can do about it.” You take a measured sip of vodka, you’re aware you’re drinking more than you should. 

“And then there’s Tony fricking Stark. He didn’t make the missile that flew into your house. That was his company, they have factories for it. He might have designed the propulsion system or tweaked the payload, but he had no say on how it was used.” You swirl the drink to hold off taking another sip.  
“His company was run by shareholders and the board of directors for years. Sure, Mr Stark took the money and lived the high life off it, but there was a disconnect. The same way watching a war zone on television isn’t as immediate as living it. He did a few promos, designed the big heavy hitters and then whittled his time away playing with car engines and partying. You ever see his cars at one of the auto shows? He owned loads of them, hell there was a marquee just for his cars and all of them were personally modified. My dad took me once…” You sigh. “But the point is there is a near hundred percent chance Stark Industries didn’t even sell the missile to the people who used it against you. It’s a massive multi-national corporation. They sell to people at arms shows, who stock pile the weapons and then sell off surpluses to other companies – those buyers then warehouse the equipment and eventually sell on what they don’t use. That missile could have been sold by a third or even fourth party. Maybe that’s why it didn’t go off, all those years in transit made it unreliable…” You take a measured sip. 

“And you know that Mr Stark was the victim of his own missiles, right? He went to promote product in Afghanistan and was kidnapped and his kidnappers used one of his own weapons against him. It was all over the news at the time. The bomb put shrapnel so close to his heart it can never be taken out. That’s what the Arc Reactor is for.” You tap your chest where it sits on Mr Stark. “It’s a magnet, it keeps the metal from digging in any further. It also powers his suits, but that’s just a bonus, its main function is to keep him alive…”  
“How do you know all this?” Wanda asks and you laugh.  
“The internet is a wonderful thing.” You consider your words. “Or at least it was. I don’t even know if it’s even exists anymore…”

“Anyway. The point is your issue with him is redundant – because Mr Stark stopped selling weapons years ago, once he fully took over the company. Stark Industries is no longer dealing in that kind of tech, so your vengeance is way too late. The Avengers wouldn’t use missiles like that and SHIELD tend to only look at the overkill variety, they fired several nukes at New York during the first few weeks and I hear they have these massive aircraft carriers that can fly. But you know who does use small ordinance to terrorise and injure the general populace?” You wait for a moment before answering your own question. “HYDRA.” 

You down the glass and make for the door.  
“Things are about to get very hectic around here. Pretty soon you’re gonna have to make some difficult choices. I don’t care who you decide to plump for, that isn’t my business. But for the sake of all that’s holy, make sure you’re making an informed decision.”  
You pause as you open the door.  
“And I don’t want to meet you on the other side of the battle line. I’m a survivor, I’ll do whatever it takes, that’s the truth, as ugly as it gets. I’ll do whatever I need to so I can see tomorrow. I’ve learned that the hard way, I really hope you don’t have to.” You smile. “Keep the vodka.”

You walk back to your room with your head swimming from drinking too much. Well you’ve done the best you can to sow uncertainty in the twin's minds, hopefully that will give SHIELD the hour they need. You won’t have time to micromanage Scarlet Witch once you start working on the force field. The concentration would just be too much and you need to help the attackers more than you need to keep a handle on her.

Back in your room there’s a battered canvas rucksack, military style, filled with a canteen of water and travel rations. You take off your shirt and use it to dry your boat where it’s floating in the sink. It fits in the rucksack perfectly. Natasha really knows her stuff. You throw your shirt on the back of your chair to dry off and crawl into bed. You pull the rucksack under the sheets and curl around it protectively. 

Whatever happens tomorrow – you’re ready as you're ever going to get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is fairly short, apologies for that, but it's a middle piece connecting two massive chunks of plot and the kid's conversation with the twins is something that has bugged me ever since I watched Age of Ultron.  
> It was good to get it out of my system. ;)
> 
> I've already started the next chapter and the fairy wards have been recharged, so the bastards shouldn't be stealing any more weeks out of my life any time soon. 
> 
> Talk to you good folks soon. :)


	33. Tomorrow Always Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Introduce yourself.” The God-King says. “Like you would a cat, give it your fingers to sniff.”  
> Feeling really weird, you reach out like the God-King shows you and the energy runs across your fingers, tasting you, testing you. Finally it pushes against you, like a cat asking for strokes. You increase your contact and you feel it against your mind, vibrating and alive.   
> “This is…” You’re at a loss for words. “I don’t know what this is.”  
> “Invite it in.” The God-King tells you and you press your palm deep into the wiring. The Tesseract energy pauses, considering and then it surges into your arm and deep down into your body. There’s so much of it, you don’t think you can cope, but it just compresses itself down, further and further into you, until there is nothing left in the console at all. The force-field splutters and dies.   
> It curls around your soul and you give a strangled cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this has been over seven and a half thousand words of intractable, difficult writing. 
> 
> There are fight scenes, there are escapes scenes, there is a war zone. People die, in nasty, bloody, horrible ways.  
> You have been warned. 
> 
> There is even plot...

*

You wake, groaning, with a hangover pounding at your temples. You’d been told about this, but you’ve never had one before. Given this experience you probably never will again.

“Good morning!” Filo calls brightly as he enters the room. He has a new, pressed uniform for the day, a bowl of water for washing and a tray of porridge, all expertly balanced in the way only an elderly person seems to be able to accomplish. He neatly places the food on your desk, the water at the foot of your bed and the uniform on your chair.   
“Filo, you shouldn’t be here.” You say as you sit up, clutching your head. Hangovers suck.  
“Why shouldn’t I be here? I get no days off, every morning I come to serve you breakfast.” Filo smiles at you cheerily.  
“Thank you, Filo.” You smile back at him. “But I won’t need you for the rest of today. Go, be with your family.”  
Filo shakes his head. “I am paid to serve you, but my orders are from above. Every day I am allowed in at a certain time and allowed out at the end of my shift, not before. Even if I could go now, I leave early, I lose money. Who would feed my family if I was not here?”   
He starts to lay out the soap, shampoo and your towel. You watch him and try to work out how to get him to leave.

“Child.” You wince at the God-King’s voice.  
“Yes, Majesty?”  
“You have an hour.”  
“An hour?” That’s no time at all. “Until we start or until I have to be at the generator?”  
“The generator would be optimal.”  
“But, breakfast…” You say wistfully.   
“Eat your breakfast.” The God-King concedes. “And washing while you can probably wouldn’t be ill-advised. But be quick.”   
“What if I have to fight my way there? What if I can’t get there in an hour?”  
“It would not be the best case, but we can work around it. You need your strength, eat, be as quick as you can.” He sounds pre-occupied. “A lot of things are falling into place at once.”  
“How soon until the attack?”   
“HYDRA are already cut off. They just don’t know it yet.”  
“And the people in Sokovia?”  
“If they don’t interfere, they will not be harmed. SHIELD has morals and I have no interest in playing games.”  
“What about the people in the fortress?” You ask looking at Filo. “The one who are forced to work here?”  
“They will take their chances, same as anyone else.”   
You slide off your bed and go to the desk in your rumpled clothes to eat your breakfast. Filo clicks his tongue at you in parental disapproval when he sees you slept in your clothes again.  
“An hour.” You nod. “I’ll be ready.”   
“Good. I’ll relay your readiness to SHIELD. Tell me the second you leave this room.”  
“I will.”   
The God-King leaves your mind to pursue other goals. 

You take a small amount of charge from the lamp surreptitiously as you eat. You flick through your memories until you get to the one in the elevator, just before Alec son of William died and the God-King took the pain away behind your eyes. You run the image through your mind several times. You feel the magic and the way he wielded it. You taste it and dissect it thoughtfully while you spoon down the porridge. Once you’ve finished you carefully place your fingers at certain points on your forehead in the same sequence as in your memory. You concentrate and send out the surge of power within you. The spell eats up the energy and erases your headache.   
“Where’s your boat?” Filo asks suddenly. He walks over to the empty sink.  
“In my backpack.” You scoop out the last of the porridge and then stand and head back to your bed. You pull the bag out from under your sheets, placing it carefully against the wall before starting to strip to wash. Filo automatically averts his eyes politely.   
“Why do you have a packed bag?” Filo asks, but his tone tells you he knows the reason.  
“I’m leaving. Today.” You start to clean yourself without looking up.   
“Where?”  
“I don’t know for sure. But my final destination is New York.”   
“SHIELD?”  
“Yes.”   
Filo looks at his feet. 

“I should report you.” He says eventually while you’re towelling yourself dry.   
“Will you?” You ask and Filo smiles.  
“No.” He says still not looking at you. “You do not belong here.”   
You nod and reach for your clean uniform.  
“What of my town, what of my family?” Filo asks, still politely averting his eyes.  
“SHIELD care about HYDRA, not Sokovia.” You say as you step into your trousers legs. “They will not attack the town. Your family will be safe.”  
“And those trapped inside this fortress?” Filo asks.   
You give a deep sigh as you button your shirt.  
“Come with me, Filo. I can protect you, I can get you out.”  
Filo shakes his head.   
“You’re just a child.” He says.  
“You’d be surprised.” You answer, heaving the bag onto your shoulders.  
“I’m sure I would.” Filo nods. “But I cannot put extra worry on such a young mind.” He smiles sadly. “A good child like you should escape without an old man slowing you down.”   
“You won’t slow me down and I owe you a lot, Filo.” You hold out your hand and he takes it to shake it. You look him straight in the eye. “Come with me. Survive. For your family.”   
Filo takes a deep shuddering breath.  
“Are you sure?” He asks.  
“I’m sure.” You answer.

You walk past him to the door and, as soon as he’s behind you, there’s a small click of a pistol. You freeze in mid-motion as you reach for the handle.   
“I have no family.” Filo says quietly.   
“And you’re not paid to serve me.” You say, still not moving.  
“No.”   
“So a bullet in the back of the head?” You laugh hollowly. “I always knew this was how it would end.” You’re completely open, you have no power in your hand, no spell ready on your lips. You move or speak in a threatening manner and you’re dead. You silently curse your own stupidity.  
“Perhaps, but not today.” Filo moves to your side and opens the door. You look at him.  
“Why?” You ask.  
“Because you would not leave an old man to die.” Filo nods in respect. “Because you thought of his family before yourself. Because, like the Widow, I have too much red on the walls where there should be a living, breathing, innocent soul still walking the Earth.” He smiles darkly. “And you do not get to be as old as I am without knowing when the wind changes. HYDRA is already surrounded, yes?”  
“Yes.”   
“Then you are my way out of here.”   
You nod at him in understanding and you twist the door handle.

*

“Child, what are you doing?”  
“What you asked me to do.” You grump as you make your way up towards the room with the force-field inside. You’re trying to use your mind radar, but the God-King keeps messing it up by sitting in your head and getting in the way.  
“And what’s he doing here?” His disapproval of Filo weighs heavy in your mind.  
“He’s getting out. End of story.” You tell him. “Now, do you mind? I really need to concentrate here. This part of the fortress is swarming with HYDRA personnel and if any of them see me, I’m in trouble.”  
“Is there any point in me telling you that you’re being foolish?” The God-King chides.  
“I’ve thought about it. I’ve decided he’s worth it. He’ll help me. He knows the place better than I do and he’s older, more experienced. He used to be a soldier, did you know that?”  
“No. I did not.” The God-King admits.  
“Then trust my judgement, okay? He will not be a liability. Now can you get out of my head? I’ll let you know when I’m there so you can tell me what to do next.”  
“Very well. But if I have to pull your young rump out of the fire because he’s alerted the guards…”  
“I understand. He won’t. I trust him.”  
The God-King sends another wave of his disapproval, but doesn’t push the point. You can feel he’s already being pulled away by some other concern.  
“I have to go. Be careful, child. And no more recruitment.”  
“Just Filo.” You agree. “I promise.”  
“Promises.” The God-King shakes his head.  
“I’ll keep it.”  
“I know.” And you don’t know if that’s the reason for his distaste or not. “I will talk to you soon.”  
“I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”  
The God-King slips out of your head.

“Stop.” Filo whispers and grips your shoulder. You freeze and both of you crouch low to the floor. A group of armed soldiers run by the intersection in front of you. Their attention is elsewhere and they don’t see you.   
“Thanks, Filo.” You whisper and send out your radar to see if there are others.  
“Two more groups coming.” Filo hisses and your radar confirms it in moments. You both wait until they pass by before moving on.  
“How did you know?” You ask.  
“Echoes and instinct.” Filo smiles. “You don’t get old like I do unless you learn a thing or two about war. HYDRA especially. The young, they think HYDRA are saviours, that they will deliver them from the warmongers in the West. But I have seen enough ‘saviours’ in my time to have many doubts.” He moves quickly for his age, swift and alert. “Those who speak of ‘freedom’ and ‘liberation’ often mean the opposite.”   
“What do you think about SHIELD?” You ask and Filo shrugs.  
“Their clothes are more colourful. Or so I am given to understand.”   
“And the Avengers?”  
“Symbols, nothing more.” He sees the look in your eyes. “Oh, they mean well, this I do not doubt. But see the Captain? See his costume? Symbols. They have the power, but others wield it for them.”   
“His costume’s a bit different now.” You say as you glance down the intersection corridors to double check they’re clear before carrying on. “What do you think of Mr Stark, then?”   
“A nice man, principled, I have no doubt. But his suit, his new power source? Do you truly think he will stop his government from clawing it from his grasp? They make the laws, they could make him a pauper in a day. They will have their army.”  
“If there’s any government left after this.” You say.  
“True.” Filo smiles at the thought. “Very true.”

*

By the time you reach the door the fighting has already started outside. Occasionally the ground shakes beneath your feet.  
“What are they using out there?” You mutter to yourself.  
“Everything they can.” Filo answers. “We need to get this field down so your people can get inside. Otherwise they will not be able to breach the defences and they will be all die.”  
“So you’re definitely with me?” You ask as you examine the lock. The door isn’t manned from the outside, the soldiers have been pulled off elsewhere. But you can feel two minds inside, alert and guarding the area. “Because, if you get cold feet, you can leave at any time. You could just pretend to be a non-combatant. I’m sure SHIELD wouldn’t check in all the chaos.”  
The lock is an electric palm reader. You put your right hand against it and let the electrical charges behind the plate do the rest of the work. It isn’t hard to tell the machine what it wants to hear, you’re getting very good at this.  
“Of course, I could do this, I could hide.” Filo agrees. “But the first day I was given you as my job, I knew it would be to the end.” Filo smiles at you. “I knew they would come for you. The terrible, alien god from New York would want you back. I expected a monster, we had all heard about your potential powers, that you were some sort of experiment. But I was surprised at how you were, how kind, how understanding of an old man’s weakness.” Filo grins toothily. “How lost and alone you were, so few allies or friends. Your family is gone, I know, I see the pain in your eyes every day. The pain only another who had lost their parents would know.” He pats your back reassuringly. “You needed me. It is nice to be needed. So I will follow you to the end. To this alien god in New York.”  
“You’re not coming with me, Filo.” You say firmly as the lock clicks open.  
“So you say.” Filo agrees. “But I am older. I know better. When the God finds out who I am, what I know, he will not let me leave.”

You drain the power from the palm reader and pull two knives from your belt. It isn’t hard to put a killing charge in both of the blades. As you walk into the room, you already know where guards are standing. Your knives are ready and flying before you’ve taken two steps. They find the throats of their targets with brutal accuracy. As the tips bite into their necks and break the skin, you unleash the charge in both the weapons and their bodies spasm as they die.   
Filo watches silently.  
“Efficient.” He says as he closes the door behind you. “HYDRA have taught you too much.” He cackles to himself.   
“I learned a bit by myself.” You tell him and walk over to the humming control panel. “Now I’m going to be quiet for a while.”  
“Your alien god?”  
“Yes. I’ll be talking to him.”   
“I understand.” Filo goes over to the bodies and starts rifling through their pockets and pouches. He sees you expression and shrugs. “You want to know their names, yes?” He asks. “You want to know who you have killed? I am looking for their identification.”  
“Yes, Filo. That would be nice.” You agree. “Sorry, I thought…”  
“Huh.” Filo shrugs. “If money was worth anything where I am going, I would be looking for that as well.”   
You smile at his sentiment.

“Majesty?” You reach out through your link. “I’m here.”  
“And the old man?”  
“He’s here too.” You glance at Filo so the God-King sees him through your eyes. “We’re making quite a team.”  
“What’s he looking for?”  
“I.D. badges.”   
“Useful.” The God-King grudgingly agrees.   
“Yes, he is.” You look back at the console. “Now what do you need me to do?”  
“Open the third panel on the right. It should pop if you press it hard in the bottom corner.” He sends you visual cues with his instructions and it isn’t hard to work out. “Now the big black wire should be the force-field’s main conduit. But I want you to do something else for me first.”  
“What?”  
“Go into the circuitry and show me what you find.”   
“You know I can do that?”  
“Child…” The God-King sighs. “You can hide nothing from me.”   
“Okay.” You press your palm against the big, thick, almost bulbous hunk of black wiring and close your eyes. You let your circuitry commune with the wires as they flow through the fortress. You feel the God-King tapping into your fugue state, feeling what you feel through the feedback you share.  
“There, stop.” He commands and you feel a mess of electricity flowing through a pair of heavy blast doors.   
“Open them.” The God-King tells you and it only takes a moment for your orders to flow through the system. The doors groan as they begin to shift. “Now destroy the wiring, stop them from shutting again.” You do as you are told and the gears continue to push the doors open as the control panels crisp and fry beneath your thoughts.   
“There are seven more sets.” The God-King says. “Find them.”  
It takes five minutes to do so, but once found it take very little time to prise them all open. As a secondary thought you send the commands through another console on the other side of the fortress, to draw suspicion from you and Filo.

“Very good.” The God-King sound both impressed and cautious. “You have learned quickly.”  
“It’s kind of easy.” You tell him. “The machines tell me what I need to know.”  
“How do they tell you?” The God-King asks and you try to show him but he pulls away.  
“No.” He says. “Show me later, when you are not in danger.”   
“Of course, Majesty.” You feel stupid. “I’m sorry.”   
“No need. Just concentrate on the task at hand. Now this force-field… Can you feel how it works?”  
“It’s… It’s really powerful.” You say as you move into its workings. “I don’t think it’s… The power, I mean… It’s not from Earth.” You shudder. “I don’t understand…”   
And then it surges and *looks* at you and you almost scream in fear. It can think for itself - it isn’t just an electrical charge, but a malevolent, powerful energy and it does not approve of your interference. It moves forward to attack…  
“Stop!” The God-King says, but he’s not talking to you. “Stop!” You feel him bringing his will to the fore, hard and sharp and uncompromising. And the energy, that terrible sentient creature… It recognises him and almost purrs…  
“What…?” You ask. “How did you…?”  
“It knows me.” The God-King reaches out and it rubs against his fingers. “Remnants of the Tesseract on Midgard.”   
You don’t know what to say.

“Introduce yourself.” The God-King says. “Like you would a cat, give it your fingers to sniff.”  
Feeling really weird, you reach out like the God-King shows you and the energy runs across your fingers, tasting you, testing you. Finally it pushes against you, like a cat asking for strokes. You increase your contact and you feel it against your mind, vibrating and alive.   
“This is…” You’re at a loss for words. “I don’t know what this is.”  
“Invite it in.” The God-King tells you and you press your palm deep into the wiring. The Tesseract energy pauses, considering and then it surges into your arm and deep down into your body. There’s so much of it, you don’t think you can cope, but it just compresses itself down, further and further into you, until there is nothing left in the console at all. The force-field splutters and dies.   
It curls around your soul and you give a strangled cry.

“Good.” The God-King smiles. “Very good.” He calls to it again and the energy responds, shifting inside of you in the most disconcerting manner. “It will not harm you, child. I want you to carry it out of here for me.”  
“But how will SHIELD power the force-field?”  
“They will have to broker a deal.” The God-King grins in your head. “The energy will not leave you without my specific command.”  
“You’re betraying them?” Why are you not surprised?  
“Of course not. I agreed you would take the force-field down for them and that is exactly what you have done. If the energy were left inside, nothing would get through unless they destroyed the mechanism by hand.”  
“And we promised to keep it intact.”  
“You see. We are only doing what we agreed upon.”   
“You just didn’t tell them everything.”  
The God-King laughs.  
“No one ever asks all the right questions. Not even Director Fury.”

The force-field is gone. The blast doors are open and SHIELD are waiting outside. You reach out and destroy every camera, every recording device, every way HYDRA has of seeing the world inside the fortress. In a final act of spite, you destroy the radio relays as well.  
“You really don’t like them, do you?” The God-King asks, his voice dry and amused.  
“No. They deserve everything they get.” You pull back into your head and wait for the nausea to ease. The Tesseract energy makes you want to puke. It’s like being on the ocean, but with the ocean inside your inner ear, drowning out any instinct you have of balance and movement. You slump to the floor, swallowing convulsively.  
“This is really weird.” You tell the God-King and he watches you, but does nothing to help. You realise he’s seeing how you’ll cope, watching you with the clinical eye of a scientist with a lab experiment.

You’re aware of Filo coming over and shaking you, but you’re barely conscious of your surroundings. You want to tell him you’re okay, but you’re not okay. You’re about as far away from okay as you can be. The Tesseract is moving through you in a controlled and methodical manner and suddenly you realise what it’s trying to do. It’s trying to control you – like it would any other machine.   
“No.” You say, reaching out to reason with it. “It doesn’t work like that in here.”  
You feel its confusion. It surges again and your leg spasms and then falls limp.  
You feel the energy’s frustration.  
“There’s more to it than that.” You tell it. “You have to learn how to co-ordinate all the parts. And it took me over a year to learn it. It’s really hard. I’m more than just a bunch of wires.”  
It moves up to you and around you, trying to figure you out. You can feel the God-King watching and enjoying the show. 

“We don’t have time for this.” You tell it. “They know the force-field is down. They’ll be coming. And you know what happens if this body dies?”   
The energy understands the concept of death. This surprises you. It gives you a feeling of entropy, of slow, unerring loss. Pieces of it drifting away in to the universe, never to return. It longs for its other part, the powerful, ever burning core of its being. But it’s been gone for so many years, it’s so weak, so alone.  
“I know where the rest of you resides. I can take you there.” You tell it and the energy shudders with longing. “But you need to let me control my own body. I’ve been in here longer, I know how it works.” 

The energy considers. But it doesn’t know how to let go. It has always powered whatever it was inside. It has always been in control.   
“Just travel back down into my body. Sit in the wires. Rest, wait. Get out of my brain, you’re messing with my circuitry. Be a back-up battery.”   
The energy considers. It understands the concept of being an emergency power source. But the primary source is much weaker…  
“Maybe to you.” You tell it, keeping the sarcasm to a minimum. “But it’s a much more efficient programme.”  
The energy considers. It retreats from your mind and pulls into your body, finding a comfortable niche against your lungs and heart. It feels the circulatory and respiratory systems. It decries their poor energy conversation rate. It decides not to intervene. It waits as a back-up system for when this inferior one fails.   
“Well done.” The God-King murmurs. “Now, get up and find your rescuers.”   
“Yes, Majesty.” You agree and you open your eyes.   
You smile up into Filo’s concerned face.  
“I’m okay, it’s done.” You tell him. “Let’s get out of here.”  
He doesn’t ask any questions. Filo just nods and helps you get to your feet.

*

You travel through the corridors as stealthily as you can. Your mental radar is completely on the blink now that the Tesseract is in your body. You keep picking up residual energy signatures instead. Everything in this base seems to have some level of Tesseract energy powering it and now you’re connected, you can’t shut up the chatter unless you keep inside your own head. Even the pistol Filo holds expertly in his old, steady hands sings with a soft, blue glow inside the bullets.  
“HYDRA had the Tesseract, long ago.” The God-King murmurs as you make your way down another empty corridor. “They used it for weapons technology and then they lost it. The energy in your body is what remained after the main source was gone.”  
“The main source on Stark Tower?”  
“Yes.”  
“It wants to go back, it wants to reconnect with its body.”  
“I’m aware.” And his tone tells you that at the moment, unless plans change, it isn’t going to happen.  
“How long do you need me to carry it? Because I don’t have to tell you that this is way beyond my experience level.”

Filo raises a hand and you both pause behind a pillar as another group of HYDRA soldiers run past towards enemy contact.   
“As long as is needed.” The God-King shrugs. “It isn’t a permanent arrangement, don’t worry.”  
“Okay.” The Tesseract surges inside you. It feels the pieces of itself inside the weapons being carried by the troop. It longs to draw the power inside itself, to be whole once again. You wince and tell it to keep quiet, to calm down. The Tesseract relaxes inside you, grumbling at your denial.   
“I don’t know how long I can control it.” You tell him with worry.  
“I have faith in you.” The God-King says. “You’ve managed before, from a much weaker position.”   
“Thanks.” You say sarcastically. “Just because I coped last time doesn’t mean you need to keep upping the learning curve.”   
The God-King laughs and disappears to deal with something else.  
“Great.” You mutter out loud. Filo frowns at you in a silent question and you shake your head to show it doesn’t matter. He nods and you continue down the hall.

Filo is an Asset, no questions about it. He might not be Enhanced but he knows this place, knows the quiet corridors, the ones only servants use. He knows the thin, unlighted tunnels a soldier in full HYDRA gear can’t fit through. This fortress is ancient, built to different specifications for an older age. And Filo explored it as a kid when it was derelict and uninhabited. He knows it perfectly and both of you are small and slight enough to get through spaces most adults couldn’t reach. It’s taking longer to get to where you need to be, but the route is far safer. Filo has his pistol in his hand and one tucked at his back. He has four clips in his deep, old person trousers, two on each leg, his belt buckled tight to stop the weight pulling at his clothing. He might not look anything like a soldier, but he’s ready for any trouble you might run into.

You meet it at the first blast door. It’s wide open and there’s a female technician at the controls, swearing lively in Russian while two groups of soldiers guard each side of the door from attack. You crouch alongside Filo behind a set of pipes and try to work out a strategy.   
“Can we go around?” You ask, but Filo shakes his head.  
“Everything is funnelled through these points, security check points. Four inner wall doors, four outer.” He shrugs. “We must go through two sets to get outside, or wait for reinforcements.”   
“Majesty?” You press your thoughts against the connection.  
There’s no answer.  
“Majesty!”   
Nothing. The line is closed for now.  
“No outside help.” You whisper aloud for Filo’s benefit. “We’re by ourselves here.”  
“So what do we have?”  
You breathe out slowly.  
“Give me a minute. If anything weird happens before I can warn you, get ready to start shooting.”  
Filo nods and holds his gun in both hands, his palms around the grip, his body tense in preparation.

The Tesseract stirs lazily at your touch. It’s been making itself comfortable in your centre, doing its best not to disturb your escape. It feels like an animal resting with one eye open, interested, but not engaged. A watching cat laid out on the couch.  
“What do you make of the people in front of us?” You ask it and it seems to stretch indolently before reaching out. Your mind begins to light up with hits, from points on their armour, to the soft flicker of blue power in their bullets. Even the data readout the technician is using has some form of Tesseract technology built into the core.   
“How much of what they have can you power down or take into yourself? Into me?” You ask it and you feel it considering your question. 

A stream of information forms in your head, technical knowledge you can’t grasp. You feel its frustration at your inability to understand. It deliberately dumbs down its message, placing simplified images in your head. It shows you two blue blobs fitting together perfectly in unity and then shrinking down and down and down, getting brighter every time they grow smaller. All the energy around the fortress comes from the source inside of your wiring. All of it can fit back in, no problem. The Tesseract tells you it will not overheat or grow too big to fit in you - somehow it can compress its energy to fit as needed. The main source, the one on Stark Tower, fits in a cube you can hold in your hand. Your small body would not be a challenge in comparison. It can clear the soldiers out, take everything they have, leave them with nothing but the armour they stand in. Guns, terminal, radios – all of it could be stolen by the Tesseract and taken inside of you without any harm to your body or your wires.   
“Okay and how quietly can you do it?” The energy gives a weird sensation, like a static frisson in your head and after a moment you realise it’s laughing. The energy would be drawn directly from the casings, the blue travelling obviously to their location. The second the Tesseract starts taking back its own, both you and Filo will be exposed. 

“Okay, Filo.” You nod to yourself as you speak. “I can make their weapons useless, take out the radios too. But it’s going to be obvious, really obvious. So I think you should take up point at another angle.”  
“Give me two minutes, then start.” Filo says and you nod in understanding as he draws back and starts to make his way stealthily to the left of the group. He’s so silent it’s eerie, moving between shadows, keeping everything slow and steady, no sudden movements that draw the eye. He’s been trained and trained well at some point in his past life. All this time and you never knew him at all.

The Tesseract bunches inside of you, its need to be whole once again flooding your senses with maddening sensation. It’s like biting a battery, all metallic tang and electric tingle on your tongue, a sharp flavour at the back of your throat. You have no control over this, when the Tesseract decides to go, it will work independently, using your body like a depository. You don’t like the feeling at all, like you’re just a bunch of wiring and nothing more. Then the Tesseract surges forward and the air itself screams at its passage. The room seems to drain of all motion, becoming dry and stinking of ozone. The blue floods from your palm and your throat, pushing you backwards so hard you have to brace yourself against the wall. You want to cry out, but the flow of the living energy cuts off your larynx and takes the sound from your lungs, the glowing stream stealing every type of energy in its wake. It engulfs the stunned troops, covering them each in a living shifting blue cocoon. Then the first person drops and you know, with horror, that the Tesseract has not just taken its energy back but stolen the living, beating heart of the person as well. Every cell of their body has been stripped of resources until there is nothing left, leaving a cooling corpse in its starving wake. The soldiers all drop, one after the other and you wrestle to try and gain a modicum of control over the teeming power inside of you. The Tesseract hisses and twists, but you fight back hard and with reluctance it drains the battery of her diagnostic equipment, but leaves the technician alive. 

The Tesseract hums happily as it returns into your body, curling contently around your core, waiting for the next feast to come. You shudder as you stand and Filo gets to his feet cautiously, his gun pointed steadily at the final figure at the door. The technician’s eyes are wide and afraid. She babbles in Russian and Filo answers, his voice even and matter-of-fact.  
“She surrenders.” He says in translation, though she said a lot more than that.   
“Okay.” You nod and lean against the wall to catch your breath. Your heart is hammering. “Secure her and we’ll move on.”   
“Why did you spare her?” Filo asks after giving her instructions. She gets on her knees and puts her hands behind her back.  
“Because she was the last one the energy inside me tried to kill.”  
“No other reason?”  
“No. I wasn’t expecting this, I was taken by surprise. I wasn’t expecting them to die.”

Filo cuts some wire from the broken controls and uses it to bind the technician’s arms behind her and he gags her with a ripped strip off cloth from her coat. He gestures and she gets up and walks to the pipes where she sits down again to await discovery.   
“I was not expecting what happened either. What are you, what has been done to you?” He asks, keeping his voice low and calm so he doesn’t spook his prisoner. She can’t understand English and glances between the two of you nervously. He starts to bind her legs with wire so she can’t run away and start an alarm.   
“I don’t know.” You say truthfully. “Not anymore.”   
“Can you control it? Or should I expect to get eaten as well?”  
“I can direct it… Reason with it. Control? – not so much.” You sigh. “But it wasn’t interested in you at all. You’re safe.”  
“Good.” Filo nods. “It is all I need to know.”  
“Though once we get out of here, you might want to give it your guns as a peace offering. They were made using its energy and it wants as much back as possible.”   
“I will keep that in mind.” Filo stands and gestures to the blast door. “Shall we continue?”   
You look at the bodies. You want to collect the names, but you don’t have the time, so you strip off their helmets and commit their faces to memory instead.   
“Okay.” You nod. “Let’s get out of here.”

*

The corridors between the inner and outer blast doors are almost completely deserted and Filo despatches the few soldiers you run into quickly and with single shots from his pistol. The Tesseract is behaving itself and it flickers on the metal of your palm when you get close enough to any discarded weaponry. It lets you touch what it is allowed to have and it doesn’t grumble or try to take control. Every small increment of power it reclaims makes it more content to listen to your commands and it purrs happily as it grows in strength.

The next blast door you come to is in complete disarray. It’s closer to the outer wall and SHIELD is making good progress into the structure. A group of HYDRA hug the open door and fire blindly down the corridor to keep their attackers at bay. A few others crouch at the door frame, keeping low to the ground and taking single measured shots into the fray. These are the first Filo takes out, his pistol barking once for each target. You dart forward, placing your palm against one soldier and then the other, letting the Tesseract do its hungry work on individual targets. It kills in such a strange manner – there is no charring or damage done to the target at all, they just fall where they stand, drained of all energy. Their bodies don’t even twitch, they don’t have the power to scream – they just die, gone, switched off as if they were never alive. A few manage to turn before you reach them, but Filo takes out any who have the chance to raise their weapons. You remain at the doorway, clearing up the guns and ammo as SHIELD move forward cautiously. They take one look at you, crouched around a circle of corpses, wearing no armour and armed only with a knife and they lower their weapons.  
“Director. We have the First Asset.” One of them speaks into his lapel as the others fan around you. “Repeat, we have the First Asset.”   
“All other objectives cancelled.” The radio crackles back. “Get the First Asset to a Quinjet, maximum priority.”   
“Understood Director.” The soldier looks at you and Filo.   
“So.” He smiles uneasily. “You want to get out of here?” His hand is still on the butt of his rifle, watching you both carefully.  
You stand and Filo drops in behind you.  
“Lead the way.” You say, smiling reassuringly and putting your hand deliberately against your side, the blue circle pressed against the cloth. “I’ve been waiting for you guys to show up.”

*

The cold air outside hits your bloodstream like a shot of caffeine. It’s the first breath of a cold crisp autumn and your body responds positively to the change. You never realised the heated inner rooms made you so sluggish before, but now you’re suddenly more awake, more alert, ready for what’s about to come. You need it, the entire place is a warzone. HYDRA are far from beaten and they’re holed up everywhere, from gun emplacements in the walls to heavy ordinance rolling out of the garages. And all of it is powered by the Tesseract. It’s overwhelming, like bright kaleidoscope patterns glowing in the snow. The energy inside you hums, a kid in a candy store, wanting to sample everything at once, pulling at your mind, trying to gain your attention.

“So you finally made it outside.” The God-King’s voice is as dry and sarcastic as ever.  
“Well, there were a few obstacles along the way.” You agree. “And having an eager, murdering energy in my wiring doesn’t really help matters.”  
“It’s been killing people?”  
“Switching them off like toys.”  
“Fascinating.” The God-King smiles darkly. “I never thought to use it that way.”  
“I wouldn’t bother. You wouldn’t enjoy it. It kills far too quickly for your needs.”  
“Well, I have better control of it than you do. I was taught how to use it effectively. I’m sure I can do some fine tuning of the process.”   
“Can we get on to other subjects, like getting me out of –“  
And that’s when the shell hits your group.

…

…

You stagger to your feet, your ears ringing and your mind numb. Your uniform is soaking wet. The Tesseract is roaring inside of you. You turn and look at the tank rolling to a halt twenty feet away, the barrel a black forbidding hole as it turns and lines up on your position again. 

Your heart drops.  
The tank fires.

You scream, raising your arm and the Tesseract flexes out and around you, a wide five foot shield of blue energy. It catches the shell, reaches to drain it of its power…   
And it triggers the explosive core.  
You’re hurled into the air, dazed and frightened and somehow still alive. The Tesseract catches you, slows your fall and lays you on the ground. You sit up, gasping down air, suddenly furious. The energy bunches, screaming from your body at your unconscious command. It engulfs the tank, lifting it up and up and up. Driving into it, taking the power from every shell, from the engine core, eating the men inside alive. Then you focus your mind through your anger, feeling the energy coalesce and shudder as you harden it around the bulk of the tank. You form a thick impenetrable force-field around the armoured hulk.  
Then you squeeze. 

You get back to your feet as the Tesseract returns to your body. Your uniform is bright red – you’re covered in blood. But you know none of it is your own. You look over to the large scarlet smear on the ground where the group of SHIELD agents were escorting you across the battlefield. As you watch, several of the bodies stir. The people who were right next to you when the shell hit have survived. You guess the Tesseract threw a force-field up at the last minute. Protected everyone in a tight formation. Filo groans, his pistol gone, his clothes as blood splattered as your own.   
You stagger over.  
“Hey.” You say, smiling stupidly.  
“Hey.” Filo says cautiously.  
“We need to watch out for tanks.” You say in way of explanation, giggling with adrenaline. Filo raises a tired eyebrow.

“CHILD!” The God-King’s bellow cuts through the static in your mind and almost deafens you.  
“Ow, shit.” You clutch you head.  
“I can hear you fine.” You talk out loud, your mind is too scrambled for anything else.   
You feel his relief.  
“What happened?”   
“Tank.” You say in way of explanation.  
“Tank?”  
“Yeah.” You show him the piece of crushed armour plating. It forms a ball about four feet in diameter.   
“Well you’re certainly finding new and interesting ways of using the Tesseract energy.”   
“Well that’s all fine and dandy and everything, but I’d like to get out of this warzone please.” You tell him. “I’ve been in one before and this one really sucks.”

A group of HYDRA start to open fire on you. The Tesseract fans out obligingly and you knife it out towards them, the energy engulfs and eats them in seconds. Despite its willingness to obey, you know you really have no control of this entity inside of you. And every time it helps you it gets stronger and learns a little more about how you operate and think. It’s only a temporary ally, once it thinks it fully understands you it will try and take over again. You really need to get it out before that happens.   
“Where’s the Quinjet, Majesty?” You ask him.  
“Hold on, I’ll get one sent to your position.” And he’s gone again.  
“Damn it.” You sigh and turn to Filo, helping the man to his feet.  
“No broken bones?” You ask him.  
“Fortunately not.” He agrees. The other two SHIELD operatives fortunate enough not to become red mist when the shell hit get shakily to their feet. 

And then you hear it.  
Thunder in the sky. 

He lands about ten feet away, almost on top of where the remains of the tank sits on the churned-up grass. He’s big, really big, like body builder big. A blonde giant with a close clipped beard and a full red cloak swirling at his feet. His armour is strange, black with silver circles - nothing like a normal soldier would wear, but made to be practical. Half high-tech, half medieval. He’s spinning a hammer in his fist. It’s small for a weapon, one handed and with a loop of leather holding it on his wrist. He points it at you and it begins to spark. Lightening arcs down from the sky, hits the hammer full on and fires straight at you.   
“Fuck!” You raise your hand, you palm connecting with the elemental fury and deflecting the blast. Most of it gets absorbed into your body, the rest arcs harmlessly away as static.   
The large man frowns, he raises the hammer with clear intention as he strides forward and you realise he’s coming in for a closer fight. To deal with you one on one. The Tesseract offers you no protection, it’s too busy chasing the lightening in your wires, gorging on this massive meal. It’s too distracted to show any interest beyond its own simple desires. You won’t get any help from there.

Without thinking you grab a knife and send it spinning at him. You have to keep him at bay. He lifts an armoured hand and bats it out of the air.   
Shit.  
And then Filo is in front of you, shielding you with his body. His arms are outstretched, showing he’s unarmed.   
“We surrender.” He shouts as the blonde giant gets within arm’s reach. “We surrender.”  
The armoured warrior stops. He looks confused.   
Filo grabs your arm and guides you to your knees beside him. You’re too shocked and frightened to resist and you sink to the ground.  
“We surrender.” Filo says again. The warrior nods and lowers the hammer to his side.  
“I am Thor, Crown Prince of the Realm of Asgard.” He tells you, his voice surprisingly soft. “And I accept your surrender.”

Behind him a Quinjet loops in to land.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing the description of the Tesseract was nigh on impossible. Never mind the fight scenes, never mind the war zone, how the heck do you describe what the kid is going through with a sentient piece of an infinity stone kicking around inside of them? I worte the first piece with the force-field, then I swore a lot. Then I stopped writing and went for a walk, then I came back to it and rewrote it. I swore a bit more and then carefully stepped away from the keyboard. A few day later I came back to it, rewrote it *again* and then continued with the story. 
> 
> I have rewritten every part of this chapter at least three times, five or six when Tesseract interaction was involved. I'm sorry it took so long, but I wanted to get it right. I hoped I've achieved it for you. 
> 
> Now this typing monkey is going to bed, after a few well deserved bananas...


	34. New Restrictions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you well?” He asks gently. “Did my brute of a brother hurt you?”  
> “No.” You say, shifting your arms. “But these cuffs are really heavy.”  
> The God-King looks at them and sighs.  
> “He has bound you in the restraints designed for my capture.” He tells you. “So they are created with my strength and combat skills in mind. That is why they are so heavy, to me they wouldn’t weigh much at all, but to a mortal child they will be cumbersome and overbearing. Be glad he didn’t use the gag as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still writing away to get this finished for you all. 
> 
> This chapter was becoming far too long so I cut it in two so you'd all get an update sooner.
> 
> Chapter Summary: Loki renews his bond with the kid while Thor keeps them captive.  
> No real content warnings here, that's probably for the next chapter.
> 
> Enjoy.

*

You sit in your seat, hunched and defeated. The adrenaline has run its course and you’re tired, worn-out and afraid. Every time you close your eyes you see the tank lining up, that dark gaping maw about to fire on your position, and you start shivering. Sleep is beyond you and you think it’s going to stay that way for a long while. Around you the all-pervading hum of the Quinjet sits in your bones as it makes its way to an unknown destination. Other than the pilot, you and Filo are alone and you feel this is probably deliberate – a way to cut down on potential casualties if you lose it and they fail to contain you. The Quinjet is large and spacious, designed to hold more than just three people, but the insides are gutted. There are no weapons here, no guns, no knives and nothing in the webbing that could be used for make shift defence. You feel powerless and angry and lost.

Filo’s been cuffed to his seat with one hand and he has the other one your knee, a close and comforting presence. You begged the Crown Prince not to separate you and he agreed, but with heavy reluctance. You know he doesn’t trust you. He isn’t here, he’s still in Sokovia, crushing the remaining HYDRA resistance. You figure he’ll show up when he’s ready, after all he can fly, so he can catch up later. You sit, hunched in a central seat, filled with conflicting emotions you don’t really understand. You want to laugh and cry and scream and hide and half a dozen other things in between, so you just sit there and try to make yourself small and lean against Filo’s arm for the reassurance it gives you. The old man doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing to say and he knows it. So he sits beside you and keeps contact to let you know you aren’t alone. He’s there for you and it’s all you need to cope. 

Both of you are in clean, dark blue, SHIELD jumpsuits, but there is nowhere to wash until you get where you’re going. Your skin is still covered in other people’s blood, every time that thought makes its way into your head you deflect it as best you can. You’re covered in the remains of people who were trying to protect you, to get you out. And HYDRA turned a tank on you for their trouble. The blood is beginning to dry and flake off in places. You want to rub at the coating, to get it off your body, but you can’t. The Crown Prince has cuffed you too with Asgardian technology he carried with him. The restraints look like metal, feel like stone and are carved with intricate runic script. And they’re heavy, really damn heavy. They make your wrists and shoulders ache, even when you’re resting them on your lap. You’d agreed to wear them in return for Filo’s company, the Crown Prince wouldn’t let you leave with him until you to put them on. They close tightly around your wrists and allow absolutely no space for movement. Your hands are rigid in front of you, you can’t use your palm to touch the outside edge, so you can’t use your powers to free yourself. Even if you could, you’re not sure it would work. Where the script touches your skin it itches, like it’s repelled by the contact. And something deep inside of you feels bound as well, some powerful instinct restrained and held captive. The Tesseract hates them. It hisses like a trapped animal and paces inside your body, waiting for something to attack, for someone to blame. 

The cuffs cut into your mind as well, removing any contact you had with the outside world. You can’t get in touch with the God-King, or go and check if Laura is okay. You can’t feel your connection to Scarlet Witch or activate your mental radar. You’ve not been this alone for so long your head seems to echo with the space and the loss of contact. You can’t sleep and you can’t go anywhere or do anything. You’re trapped and confined. The claustrophobia and the fear of being held captive like this forever eats the back of your mind. You’re back in the hanger in the Empire State that first terrible day, waiting to see what will happen, knowing there is no escape. Waiting to see what an Asgardian Prince will do to you…  
If you didn’t have Filo, you think you would go mad. 

“Child.” You look up at the God-King’s voice. Filo does as well, so you know the hologram can be seen by everyone. The God-King is dressed in his smart casual attire. A band of woven gold in his black, brushed back hair, a cashmere tunic and leather trousers, but no armour or helm. His favoured necklace the only other adornment on his lean frame. He looks tired but relieved to see you.  
Filo inclines his head in greeting.  
“The God-King of New York.” He says quietly.  
“The same.” The God-King turns to look at him.  
“I am honoured to meet you at last.” Filo gives a small bow of his head. “I have heard much about you.”  
“Filo, isn’t it?” The God-King looks him up and down.  
“I am known as such.” The old man nods and the God-King smiles.  
“You protected my child. You have my thanks.”  
“And your gratitude?”  
“Perhaps.” The God-King shrugs.

“I think we shall meet in person soon enough.” Filo says and the God-King narrows his eyes in speculation.  
“Do you think so?”  
“I do not plan to let this child out of my sight.”  
“Why?” The God-King asks, watching Filo’s expression closely.  
“Who else will protect them?” Filo asks and the God-King’s lips twitch in amusement.  
“And what do you ask in return for this act of philanthropy?” His voice has a twinge of sarcasm.  
“A fair trial when I am in your presence. That you do not kill me or send me away. And that I can give this young one the benefit of my knowledge and experience.”  
“What can you teach them that I cannot?” The God-King asks.  
“What it is to grow old.” Filo smiles and the God-King grins.  
“I like you, Filo, Son of No one. We shall see.”  
“Thank you, Majesty.” Filo gives a little half bow of respect without getting out of his seat.  
The God-King turns his eyes on you.

“Are you well?” He asks gently. “Did my brute of a brother hurt you?”  
“No.” You say, shifting your arms. “But these cuffs are really heavy.”  
The God-King looks at them and sighs.  
“He has bound you in the restraints designed for my capture.” He tells you. “So they are created with my strength and combat skills in mind. That is why they are so heavy, to me they wouldn’t weigh much at all, but to a mortal child they will be cumbersome and overbearing. Be glad he didn’t use the gag as well.”  
“There’s a gag?”  
“Oh yes.” The God-King exhales deeply. “Made of metal and designed to pin my silver tongue to the roof of my mouth.”  
“Sounds wonderful.”  
“It’s even worse than it sounds.”  
“I’ll remember to stay polite in his presence.” You move nervously in your seat.  
“It’s probably for the best.” He agrees. “Though, in your case, I have every faith in your diplomacy.” 

“These restrain my magic as well, don’t they?” You ask, shifting the heavy cuffs again on your lap. They have no links in them, but are a simple figure of eight design which force your wrists tightly and uncomfortably together.  
“Yes and they shield you from me.” The God-King sits forward. “Which is why I’ve only just been able to locate you.”  
“Didn’t you get this Quinjet to pick me up?” You ask frowning.  
“I did and then I was called away again. By the time I came back our connection had been severed and I could no longer locate you. Since this was not part of my expectations, I had not paid attention to which Quinjet you were in and SHIELD brought their entire fleet in Russia to Sokovia for air support. I’ve checked over fifteen of the damn things searching for you.”  
“I didn’t know you cared.”  
“Oh ye of little faith.” The God-King smiles. “Of course I care for you, little one. You’re one of my favourite pets and I miss you.” His eyes flicker and you know Howard’s Child is behind his eyes, listening in. 

He shifts forward in his seat, eyeing the cuffs expertly.  
“A bit brutal for one as young and weak as you.” He says. “But…” And he smiles his dark smile. “Not designed for something as powerful as the alien energy which actually resides in you wires.”  
He moves forward, crouching in front of you, running his holographic hands over and over the surface of the cuffs. “And not designed for this eventuality. By putting them on you, Thor leaves them open to my ingenuity. Let’s take the time to break them, shall we?” You move your wrists as he commands, showing him the cuffs from every angle.  
“Can you do it?” You ask after a long few minutes. “I really want them to stop doing whatever it is they’re doing to my head.”  
“Yes.” He says after a long and intimate inspection of the carvings. “Just here, I think… ” He raises a finger and then glances at you. “This is going to sting for a moment.”  
You nod and brace yourself.

It’s a needle prick, nothing like the pain you were expecting. A single sharp incision, too small to be properly detected, but the Tesseract growls as it feels the tiny opening to the outside world. It pushes at it, helping the God-King from the other side. They work the opening in the magical ward until it is big enough for them to pass through and the God-King caresses you mind reassuringly. You close your eyes and shudder at the contact. It’s wonderful and terrifying all at once.  
To be free again, to have your thoughts and self-determination back is amazing…  
But to feel him there as well, his vast mind calling on great reserves of magical power and focussing them so close to your fragile being…  
If he shifted his attention onto you, you’d be dead in moments. It makes you feel so small in comparison. He’s so much more powerful than you, it’s insane. You’ll never be free of him and the knowledge of your captivity, that re-affirmation of your imprisonment, hits you hard. 

You suddenly realise when you were in HYDRA he had been restrained, almost sweet at times, forced to play nice with you to ensure your return. As soon as you’re back with him again the gloves will be off, you’ve have to deal with his rages and his physical overbearing presence again. He won’t have to restrain his magic when he forces you to do what he wants. You force down the panic, hiding it away, boxing it in the darkness where he can’t see. You can’t show him weakness anymore. He’ll only exploit it. 

“Now, let’s make them ineffective for good.” The God-King says, blithely unaware of your new awakened fear of him. He calls the Tesseract out through your palm, a thin blue line of power and coaxes it to the point on the outside of the cuffs he has chosen for its attention. The energy line touches the strange stone delicately and with a single, precise stroke a small rune is wiped from the surface. The change is immediate and you gasp in relief as all the sensations you have been taking for granted for the last few months come flooding back into your mind.  
“And now, let’s hide this from my brother.” The God-King makes another series of complicated gestures and you feel the tingle as a soft golden light suffuses you and the restraints. It covers your outline completely and then disappears. The missing rune sits on the cuff as if it has never been removed. “There. Don’t break the illusion.”  
“I won’t.” You agree.  
“Such a good little pet.” He touches your cheek with ghostly fingers. “We shall meet in person soon.”  
“I look forward to it.” You tell him and the God-King tilts his head to the side.  
“Only half true, but more than I would expect.” He says thoughtfully. “You really have missed me, haven’t you?”  
You think of Mr Stark, of Mr Selvig and finally meeting Laura in person and you push that longing into your answer.  
“Yes.” You say, not trusting yourself with a longer lie and his strokes your cheek again. You wonder if you’ve fooled him.  
“Such a sweet child.” He says, but his expression gives nothing away. 

“So.” You say, flexing your hands in the cuffs to keep some feeling in them. “Why wasn’t your brother trying to stop you in the Battle for New York with the rest of the Avengers?”  
“Oh he was. He was the one who blew out all the windows in the Empire State Building.” The God-King grimaces in distaste as he sits back down opposite you. “He’s such a vandal. But he’s physically stronger than me and had been given the means to contain me by our father. I knew that if I was to take New York I had to lure him out.”  
“What did you do?”  
Sent a small contingency of Chitauri outside the city borders and made sure he saw them before they left. He thought I was sending them to ground in case of defeat and chased after them. I kept him searching, leading him further and further away with illusions and deception. By the time he was finished mopping up and realised the rest weren’t real, I had the force-field in place and he was locked out.”  
“And you were ruler of your first kingdom.”  
“Complete and undisputed.” The God-King agrees with a smile.

“So what’s he been doing all this time?” You ask. You test the cuffs, but they’re still solid. The magic might be gone, but you still can’t get them off.  
“Stop fussing.” The God-King chides you. “Only Thor can remove them completely. I could damage the locking mechanism, but he would know I had tampered with them. So stop struggling.”  
You look down at your feet.  
“Yes, Majesty. Sorry.”  
“He’s been in Norway mostly.” Filo says in answer. “Though we are unsure why.”  
“His love interest is there.” The God-King shrugs. “He fell head over heels in love with a mortal and SHIELD moved her there to keep her safe.”  
“How do you know?” Filo asks, he sounds interested.  
“I keep detailed information on my brother and his whereabouts. He’s weakened, but far from defeated. And well, we’re family. I like to stay in touch.”  
“You talk with him?” You ask surprised.  
“Of course not.” The hologram spits in sudden fury. “Why would I waste my time?”  
You want to remind him about the Bifrost, that Thor was innocent of throwing the God-King into the void. But if Howard’s Child is in there, you can’t risk it, so you shrug instead.  
“I just figured you’d enjoy taunting him. I mean, you could send a double and he wouldn’t be able to do anything.”  
“I have been tempted.” The God-King admits. “But duty always comes first and I have been quite busy of late.”  
“I know.” You smile at him. “Thank you for saving me.” 

The sky darkens outside and thunder shakes the sky. The God-King glances up, for a moment his expression betrays his fear. You get flashes of emotion, frustration and pain and helplessness. Then the God-King regain his composure.  
“Well, here he comes.” He says, his old sarcastic self. “Time to be on your best behaviour.”  
His hologram flickers with gold, but he doesn’t disappear.  
“Well that’s one Prince gone.” Filo says. “Time to deal with the new one.”  
The God-King winks at you and you know he’s changed the image so only you can see it.  
“I’m not going to leave you.” He promises. “Not to him.”  
You smile in timid gratitude.

The ramp of the Quinjet opens and the Crown Prince lands on one knee, his hammer pressed to the metal with a ringing thump. For anyone else the landing would have taken the wind out of them, but the Prince just stands and strides into the interior as if G-Force just happens to other people.  
A memory flashes in your mind.  
_You’re chained in the back seat of the Quinjet, in metal, mortal chains, not moving and behaving yourself when the lightening comes._  
_“What? Scared of a little lightening?”_  
_“I’m not overly fond of what follows.”_  
_Your brother appears, landing on the ramp and grabs you by the throat without a word. He has a terrible, frightening expression on his face. A look promising retribution and punishment. You want to tell him how much you’ve missed him. Though you hate him, you've longed to see him again - to see your family alive and well. You feared them dead, that while you were captive Thanos had taken the ultimate retribution for your defiance. But the words won’t come and the moment is lost._ _He throws both of you out of the Quinjet and into space, taking you captive without a word of his intent._  
You taste the God-King’s fear and you start to shake violently. 

Filo catches your shoulders with his free arm and holds you close, making reassuring noises. You bury your head in his chest, knowing that if the Crown Prince decided to harm you, no one would be able to do a thing to stop him.  
The blonde giant stops a few steps away, his brow creased with confusion.  
“Why is the child so afraid?” He asks, his clear cut English accent as soft as last time.  
“Why do you think?” Filo asks angrily.  
The Crown Prince kneels down beside you, placing his hammer on a seat.  
“I give you my word, I mean you no harm.” He says, taking one of your hands in his. His hands are strong, powerful and calloused. He could break every bone in your arm in a single moment of misjudged strength. You cower away from him.

“You attacked me.” You voice is high pitched and terrified. You can do nothing to control it.  
“A misunderstanding, nothing more. I thought you had killed the soldiers from SHIELD – that you were fighting for the enemy.”  
“But… But the tank!”  
“Was nothing but a ball of metal. I had no clue what it was.” The Crown Prince laughs. “I had seen the flash of blue, a strange use of the Tesseract’s power. I went to investigate and saw you stood in wide pool of blood, surrounded by the dead. How would you have assessed the situation?”  
“I don’t know…” You whisper out, far from reassured and too afraid to resort to sarcasm. The thought of the gag is still fresh in your mind.  
“When we finally defeated our foe and took the fortress, Friend Fury explained SHIELD were trying to get you to safety but HYDRA opened fire. The two whose lives you saved gave statements as to your innocence before me.” He squeezes your hand in an attempt at reassurance. “You have my apology for thinking such ill of you.”

An apology. The God-king never apologises. You don’t know what to make of it. You search his face for ill-intent and don’t find anything. But if he’s as old and wily as the God-King then he’ll be able to hide it from you.  
“Prove it.” You say. “Take off the cuffs.”  
The Crown Prince sighs and shakes his head.  
“That I cannot do. If you truly have some of the Tesseract inside of you, there is no way you can control it. These shackles are for your own protection – though I can understand why you would find it hard to believe.”  
“Please.” You beg him. “Please take the cuffs off.”  
“I cannot.” He says firmly. “I am sorry.”  
He stands and walks off to the pilot to talk with them, leaving the hammer behind. 

Filo continues to make comforting noises as you lie against him.  
“You are safe.” He whispers.  
“Am I?” You ask, unconvinced.  
“He seems sincere. I know how to read people. There were no lies in what he said.”  
“Okay.” You snuggle in deeper. “I trust your judgement.”  
“He’s sincere because he never looks beyond the surface of what’s happening.” The God-King tells you. “He’s apologising because the Director intervened and told him he was wrong. What do you think will happen if the Director changes his mind about you?”  
“You think there might be a double-cross?” You ask and Filo sighs.  
“There is always that chance.” The older man says, thinking you’re talking to him.  
“Thor’s being used. The Director is dangling the safety of his precious mortal in front of him like a carrot and Thor thinks he is doing it out of kindness. He’s also using Thor’s poor opinion of me to keep him on side.” The God-King answers, smiling at Filo. “If there is going to be a double-cross, this would be the perfect time to instigate it.”  
“I guess.” You sigh. “But either way there’s nothing I can do about it, is there?”  
“We will do what we are told and see what happens.” Filo agrees.  
“I have other plans put aside for the eventuality. You need not worry.” The God-King tell you.  
“Okay.” You say. “Thank you.”

Now that you’re free of the cuff’s mental restraints you find yourself beginning to doze. The Tesseract coils inside of you, confused and fascinated by your lack of energy and your need to switch off. For some reason that’s comforting as well, like being fussed by an over-excited cat. It pushes itself against you, licking at the edges of your mind.  
“Hush.” You murmur. “You’re making me more tired just watching you.”  
The Tesseract sits back and curls up again, happy now that’s no longer restrained and willing to do as you tell it. It purrs like electric current through a pylon. Soft and sleek and deadly. 

You reach out with your mind and feel Scarlet Witch. She’s miles away, in another Quinjet, being taken somewhere in Russia for debriefing. Quicksilver is manacled in the seat next to her, angry and fuming at what he sees as your duplicity. You watch them a while to make sure they’re okay, but you don’t complete the connection and Scarlet Witch never realises you’re there.  
You reach out to Laura, but the God-King stops you. You open a tired eye to look at his hologram.  
“No, I can’t allow it.” He says. “My brother is magically sensitive. He won’t feel your connection with Scarlet Witch, it’s a very closed loop and you’re still relatively close to her. But if you reach out all the way to New York he’ll feel the change and become aware that your cuffs aren’t working.” The God-King walks over and strokes your head in apology. “Compared to me, he’s blind, of course, but everyone on Asgard has a little bit of knowledge in the field. Thor works alongside powerful magic every day and has a small instinctive connection with it.” The God-King kisses your hair.  
“If you must know, your sister is perfectly fine. She’s looking forward to meeting you.”  
“Okay.” You mutter and he smiles at you.  
“Get some rest. You’ll need it.” You feel him in your mind, a superficial touch. He smooths away the immediate fear you feel in remembering the war zone you’ve just escaped. You can now look at the memories without the emotional pain. It’s incredibly soothing. You close your eyes again and let your mind rest. You feel the God-King reach out and gently nudge you all the way into slumber. 

When you wake the engines have changed their hum and the craft is slowing down. You’re still half in Filo’s arms and the old man is dozing as well. The God-King is sat beside you and one of his ghost hands is resting on your side protectively.  
“What’s happening?” You ask sleepily.  
“You’re coming in to land.” The God-King tells you. He smiles down at you paternally.  
“Where?” You yawn heavily.  
“The Carrier. SHIELD’s mobile flying headquarters.”  
“Oh. Okay.” You accept the answer in your stride. Your life is strange enough to accept a flying headquarters. The God-King chuckles.  
“I love the way you do that. So accepting.” He strokes you cheek. “Now we will find out if they plan to go through with the deal or not.”  
“I hope they do. I don’t want to end up being treated like I was in HYDRA.” You glance at Filo. “He thinks they’re the same, only SHIELD has more colourful uniforms.”  
“Well he’s been around for long enough to comment.” The God-King agrees. “And their Director understands ruthless necessity as well as any HYDRA commander would.”  
“Yeah.” You agree. “I’ve met him.”

You slowly work your way out of Filo’s arms so that the old man continues to doze without being disturbed. It hard to do with the heavy restraints on your wrists, but somehow you manage it and you’re glad. He’s had a long day too, he deserves the rest. The God-King moves his hand from your waist to your leg, rubbing you for reassurance. The Crown Prince is off in another compartment, you can only hear his voice but from the pauses you guess he’s in conversation with someone.  
“His mortal is worried about him.” The God-King follows your gaze. “He’s assuring her that everything is fine.” 

“So do you go to where he is and watch him with invisible holograms?” You ask and the God-King laughs.  
“I could, but I don’t. We no longer have that much in common and I can get all the updates I need from SHIELD informants.”  
“You have informants on the Carrier?”  
“One or two. It wasn’t hard to catch a few high level operatives during the Battle and turn them. The sceptre is very good at getting people to do what you want and I’m adept at manipulating its mind-craft. I released them quickly enough that their absence was put down to their escape from the warzone and SHIELD took them back on board. I trigger them every now and again, when I need to find out something of interest.”  
“You tortured them?”  
“Yes, among other things.” The God-King shrugs. “Burned out a few memories and replaced them with instructions, that sort of thing.”  
“You realise the more I know about you, the more scared I get?” You say sarcastically and the God-Kings lips twitch in a smile.  
“Asgardians are a grand and terrible race.” He tells you. “You’ll do well to remember that your ancestors feared us greatly and worshipped us as gods.”  
“With good reason.”  
“Very much so.” 

You look at the holographic hand on your leg. You rest the restraints on your thigh so you can reach and touch it tentatively with you right hand.  
“What are you doing?” The God-King asks.  
“I don’t know.” You say. “Just curious as to what you feel like, I guess.”  
The God-King watches you patiently as you run your circle over the back of his hand and wrist.  
“Well?” He asks eventually.  
“It feels weird. A different form of energy, one I’m not familiar with.”  
“A special kind of magical energy.” The God-King agrees. “One you can only manipulate later in your training. You have to learn how to separate and manipulate it.”  
“Does it have to be gold?” You ask and he smiles.  
“No. It depends on the practitioner. Generally the students has the same colour as the teacher, but as time goes on and the student becomes more adept their colour will change hue to suit their personality.”  
“Gold is really pretty.”  
“It is.” He agrees. “Why are you asking about it now?”  
“I don’t’ know. Something else to think about I guess. Rather than SHIELD and the Carrier and your brother’s manacles…”  
“I understand. I can be the same, gathering knowledge as a way to ease or distract the mind.” The God-King nods. “It’s another reason I kept you around.” 

You look up at him.  
“Thank you for watching over me while I slept.” You say. “Thank you for helping me sleep in the first place.”  
“You are most welcome.” His eyes dance with amusement. “Don’t think I don’t know you’re trying to appease me. I’ve frightened you, haven’t I?”  
“A bit.” You admit. “But it’s more Him, than anything else.”  
“My brother?”  
“Yeah. He really emphasises the difference between us and you. Mortals and Asgardians. And I can feel it as well, some sort of instinct, his difference, his regal baring, his… otherness…”  
“But not with me?”  
“With you it’s different. You’re, I don’t know, more worldly? You try to fit in, you try to learn our ways. It’s part of the game, part of the intellectual exercise. You can fool people into thinking you’re one of them, that you’re harmless.” You pause in what you’re saying and the God-King grins in that evil way that makes you want to wet yourself. You shift uncomfortably. “But I don’t think your brother would bother.”

“He doesn’t, beyond the superficial.” The God-King agrees, his smile fading when you don’t take the bait. “But then he’s never had to use his mind like I have. He’s always been physically stronger, the better warrior. And then father gave him Mjolnir and he didn’t even have to learn battle magic.”  
“Mjolnir?”  
“His hammer.”  
“Oh.” It’s still on the seat where he left it. “He’s pretty casual with keeping it safe isn’t he?”  
“Only he can wield it, so he doesn’t have to be too careful and if he raises his hand and calls it, it would smash its way through the wall to reach him.”  
“Oh.” You consider this revelation. “That’s pretty cool. Part of the whole ‘worthy’ thing you told me about when we were in Asgard?”  
“Yes.”  
“Cool.”  
“I could kill you by throwing a dagger that doesn’t even exist, but his lump of metal is cool.” The God-King says grumpily.  
“Don’t get me wrong, you’re cool too. The things you do are terrifying, but they’re wonderful as well. But what kid wouldn’t be impressed by a magical hammer that can do all that stuff?”  
The God-King laughs.  
“True enough.” He agrees.  
There’s another change in engine noise and you both look up. Filo opens his eyes and yawns.  
“We’re coming in to land.” The God-King tells you. “Be ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slightly abrupt ending, but this really is two chapters and I had to make a judgement call where to make the cut. 
> 
> This is the point where the fore-shadowing of what was about to happen in SHIELD becomes the actual events - so I made the decision to end it here. On the plus side the next chapter's half written, so it shouldn't be long until the next update.  
> Due to Uni commitments I'm probably only going to update once or twice a week for the next few months. I'm sorry about that, but I'll do my best to make the time between updates as short as possible.
> 
> See you all next time. ;)


	35. Sibling Rivalry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, if it isn’t the ‘I’m not a super weapon.’” Director Fury says in greeting. He’s sat behind a desk with half a dozen Stark Pads laying haphazardly on the surface and three separate stacks of folders that are so high they teeter slightly in the gust of air as the door closes. He looks tired and stressed and in need a good day’s worth of sleep. He looks like he’s fed-up of all the bullshit.  
> You consider being all meek and unthreatening, but from the Director’s manner you can tell he wants some bite back. He wants you to stand your ground, he wants this to be interesting – so you decide to deliver.
> 
> “I’m learning new things all the time.” You answer with a bit of defiance. “And I still stand by what I said when we last met.”  
> The Director smiles and shakes his head.  
> “You killed a tank.” He says flatly.  
> “In my defence, it tried to kill me first.” You reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for being patient.  
> I've just started Uni and the assignments are starting to pile up all ready...
> 
> Summary:  
> Thor and SHIELD try to change the deal and niether Loki or the Tesseract are impressed by this development.
> 
> Triggers - Surprisingly few actually. If you could deal with a tank blowing people up, then this chapter has nothing really. Except for the feels - caution - all the feels are in this chapter... (Do I even need a trigger warning for that, ho hum...)

*

“Well, this takes me back.” The God-King walks beside you with a jaunty smile and a spring in his step. His clothes have changed to his black and green leather coat with golden armour plates. For some reason he looks battle worn as if he’s just been attacked and possibly beaten up. His hair is all tangled and his boots are a little scuffed, his face smudged with dirt.  
“You been here before?” You ask through your connection with him. He’s still invisible to everyone else and you don’t want to be filmed talking to an empty space.  
“I was taken captive and brought here by the Avengers.”  
“Oh.”  
“Don’t worry, I let it happen. I needed to keep them distracted and I was the best bait available.”  
He nods to a room as you pass it. “Stark and Banner tried to discover the secret of the Sceptre in that very room.”  
You look in through one of the large windows.

“It doesn’t look like much now.”  
“Well, I did have it blown up.”  
“Oh, okay.” You look around the corridor. “It does seem to be patched a lot, some of the metal looks brand new.”  
“I was very thorough.” The God-King agrees.  
“What did you do?”  
“Tricked them into thinking I was going to use the green beast to escape. So they went and tried to talk him into containment and riled him up enough so that when the lab exploded Banner didn’t have any reserves of control left. I’d also primed the Sceptre to pick up on any emotional discord around it and to amplify the effect. One they started arguing, they didn’t stand a chance.”  
You think about this for a while. You remember the green monster you talked down, the one that could throw ships through walls and then you try to imagine the damage he could do in such a contained area. You’re glad you weren’t around to see it.

“So you didn’t really trick them?”  
“Well it depends on the point of view. If I hadn’t said anything then it wouldn’t have happened, but alternatively if they hadn’t been so scared of Banner they wouldn’t have danced to my tune in the first place.” The God-King shrugs. “There’s a point in manipulation where you do indeed call the shots – but if they hadn’t taken my bait, the explosions would have done most of the work anyway. The fact that Thor and Banner decided to fight it out and destroyed half the Carrier while they did so… Well it just meant that my men could get on with their assignments without having to worry as much about having to create distractions.”  
“So you were hedging your bets?”  
“Always. Never rely on just one strategy. Always have several potential plans to achieve you goal running at once.”  
“Keep people guessing?”  
“Precisely.” 

You walk in an amicable silence for a while and you take in the corridors and try to get your bearings. It does look like it’s been hastily fixed in places. Some of the metal plates on the walls have been welded with quite ugly patches. You’re still in your cuffs with your hands hanging limp in front of you and you’re surrounded by six SHIELD soldiers, forming a protective guard. Thor is taking the lead and Filo is still in the Quinjet. Apparently they have other questions for him than they do for you. The God-King told you not to fight the decision, so you didn’t, agreeing to everything as meekly as you could. 

The God-King seems to be enjoying himself now, drinking in the nostalgia of a job well done and seeing how they’ve tried to fix the damage his plans caused. He tuts and shakes his head at a particularly badly patched area. Other times he points out where Mjolnir must have punched through several bulkheads to get to Thor during his battle with Banner. It’s quite an interesting commentary and you don’t realise he’s doing it deliberately to take your mind off things until you reach your destination. It’s a door to an office and you’re instantly afraid. The Tesseract feels your fear and coils inside of you, hissing gently.  
“Don’t be frightened, I am with you.” The God-King tells you. “Be strong, little one. This isn’t for much longer.” He grips your shoulder in solidarity, his ghost fingers tingling through the material of your jumpsuit. The Tesseract hums at his contact as you calm down. It seems to be tying itself to your emotions and you’re not sure whether you should be worried by that or not.  
You don’t have much time to think on it as Thor opens the door and gestures you inside. He follows and closes it behind him, leaving the guards out in the corridor.

*

“So, if it isn’t the ‘I’m not a super weapon.’” Director Fury says in greeting. He’s sat behind a desk with half a dozen Stark Pads laying haphazardly on the surface and three separate stacks of folders that are so high they teeter slightly in the gust of air as the door closes. He looks tired and stressed and in need a good day’s worth of sleep. He looks like he’s fed-up of all the bullshit.  
You consider being all meek and unthreatening, but from the Director’s manner you can tell he wants some bite back. He wants you to stand your ground, he wants this to be interesting – so you decide to deliver.

“I’m learning new things all the time.” You answer with a bit of defiance. “And I still stand by what I said when we last met.”  
The Director smiles and shakes his head.  
“You killed a tank.” He says flatly.  
“In my defence, it tried to kill me first.” You reply.  
“You see, that’s where I have the problem.” The Director says sitting forward and jabbing a finger at you. “Generally tanks don’t ‘try’ to kill anyone, they just fire and their target dies.”  
“I’m not a super weapon, Director.” You say calmly.  
“No?”  
“No.” You shrug. “I’m just carrying a part of one right now.”  
The Director falls into a baffled silence and the God-King laughs at you answer.

“Run that by me again?” The Director says after a moment to compose himself.  
“The force-field in the fortress was fuelled by a part of the Tesseract. To deactivate it I had to take that part inside of me.” You say slowly and carefully, concentrating on the explanation, trying to keep it simple.  
“And you can do that?” The Director frowns at you.  
“Yes.”  
“So you’re more like a gun than a bullet?”  
“It’s a good description.” You shrug. “Though I can choose whether to fire or not.”  
“Thor.” The Director turns to the silent Asgardian. “Can you elaborate on this?”  
“As far as I can tell, the child has been the subject of one of my brother’s unsavoury experiments. Something from the vaults of Asgard has been taken and used on them, for reasons as yet unknown. I was not aware of the child’s abilities either, until I saw them first hand. I will have to consult with my father on the best course of action.”  
“And you can do that?” The Director asks and Thor gives you a thoughtful look.  
“Yes, with your permission I would like to use the part of the Tesseract in the child to make a link to Asgard.”  
“No.” The God-King hisses from beside you. “I won’t allow it.”  
You shift uncomfortably and both the Director and Thor look at you. You try to compose your answer without giving too much away.

“I don’t think that would work.” You say. “The Tesseract is sentient, it thinks and feels, not like we do but… I had to coax it into me, like you would with an animal or a small child… and well, I don’t think it wants to come out again.”  
“There are ways we can extract it.” Thor tells you and you shudder.  
“Why do I think none of those ways would be very nice for me?” You look at the Director. “The Tesseract’s like a really intelligent animal most of the time, it doesn’t think critically like we do, it just reacts. Its field of knowledge is more narrow in scope, but huge in breadth. It has technical know-how way beyond anything I can work out. But doesn’t reason like we do and it has sharp teeth and claws. It’d be like trying to get a cat into a carry case. It’d fight and tear me to shreds.”  
“But you can control it?” The Director asks and you bite your bottom lip.  
“Kinda…” You sigh. “It’s more like having someone else in here. While we’re getting along, everything’s fine and it helps out when it can. But if we disagree things could get really messy, really quickly.” You frown. “I think it’s stronger than I am Director, but it doesn’t understand how I work, how I operate. So right now I have the upper hand. But if you push it…”  
“Then the claws would come out.”  
“Exactly.”  
The Director sits back again, weaving his fingers together and pressing his index fingers to his bottom lip. 

“If I cannot talk to Father, then I cannot help this child.” Thor says. “The containment I was given was for the whole Tesseract, it was not designed for just a small piece. But I think back at the observatory, Jane would be able to work something out.”  
“I’m not going to Norway.” You say angrily. “I want to go home.”  
The Tesseract hisses at your rebellion, stirring and focussing on the Director as a potential threat.  
“Who said you were going to Norway?” The Director asks and you give him a cold look.  
“You think I spent my time in HYDRA wearing earplugs? The Crown Prince is you major ally. Word gets around.”  
“I see.” The Director nods thoughtfully.  
“The deal was that I went home, Director.” You tell him. “I just want to go home.”  
“That was before you squashed a tank into a ping pong ball.”  
“So what? And it was about four feet wide when I’d finished, it wouldn’t crush down any more.”  
“The point still stands.”  
“No, it doesn’t.” You say, just keeping your rage in check. The Tesseract growls inside of you. “You didn’t do your research properly, that isn’t my fault. You made your deal, Director and you got a good price. Keep you word, send me home.”  
“Easy, child.” The God-King whispers, his hand pressing into your shoulder. “Do not let them know your cuffs do not work.”  
You look at your feet and you take several deep, calming breaths. The Tesseract coils, ready to strike, but willing to wait.  
“I just want to go home. You say quietly. 

The Crown Prince walks over and kneels down in front of you, so you’re eye-to-eye.  
“I do not understand.” He says taking your hands in his. “Why would you want to return to my brother?”  
The Tesseract hisses and prepares to attack, but you veto it sharply. The Tesseract whines – it doesn’t understand. It feels your anger and fear and it wants to protect you, to react as an animal would to this threat to your safety. Like some sort of crazily powerful attack dog. You tell it the time isn’t right, that it needs to wait. The energy coils and pulses in annoyance, but it doesn’t attack the Crown Prince. Instead it beds down deeper inside of you, so that when the time is right its pouncing attack will be more potent. It digs down so hard it makes you wince, it hurts really badly. You shake your head and try to focus on the here and now. You feel the God-King’s ghost fingers digging into your shoulder with concern. 

“It isn’t about what I want.” You tell the Crown Prince. “This isn’t about me.”  
“Of course it is.” He squeezes your hands as he makes his point. “Since you have met him, my brother has done nothing but abuse you. I heard what the Black Widow had to say. How he stole your name, how he tricked you into becoming his servant, how he hurts you when you disobey. Do you really wish to go back to that?”  
“Choose wisely.” The God-King says in warning and the Tesseract hisses moodily at him as well.  
You bite your lip.

“Your Highness.” You say politely. “This is not about what your brother has done or will do to me. It is about letting me go home. I was born in New York, my parents died there and it is where I belong.” _I need to get the Tesseract out of me._ You add silently. _I need to return it to the rest of the cube before it eats me._ The Tesseract hums and nuzzles against you. Its claws dig in deeper.  
“But you could do so much good here.” The Crown Prince argues.  
“We have a great apprenticeship scheme.” The Director says, leaning forward on his desk to get a better view of both of you. “You’re a year younger than normal at fifteen, but we can make allowances.”  
“I’m fourteen, Director.” You correct him and he nods.  
“Whatever. You’re welcome here, to be part of something bigger.”  
“Only fourteen.” The Crown Prince breathes in disbelief. “Oh, my brother, what a monster you are.”  
The God-King laughs bitterly and strokes your hair. You move a little closer to his invisible hologram to make the gesture easier, you need the comfort.

You pull your hands away from the Crown Prince as carefully and as politely as you can.  
“At least he doesn’t put me in cuffs.” You point out, fighting to keep your voice level and reasonable.  
“You are restrained for your own protection.” He tells you. “To stop Loki hurting you while you are here, to stop the Tesseract from overwhelming you.”  
The Tesseract grumbles.  
“Did I ask for your help?” You demand. “Did I ask for any of this?” You raise the cuffs in distaste. “I don’t need your protection, I don’t need your sympathy and I certainly don’t need your allowances.”  
You turn back to the Director.  
“I need to go home. I want to go home. Everything that has ever mattered to me exists in New York, not here and not anywhere else on this ball of mud we call a planet. I don’t want to go to Norway, I don’t want to stay on the Carrier. I don’t need your charity. Please, keep your word, send me home, Director Fury.” 

“Your brother’s rubbing off on him. Loki would have been proud of that little speech.” The Director says dryly.  
“Yes. Perhaps we reached to this child only just in time.” The Prince agrees.  
“What?” You demand. “What are you talking about?”  
“We need to discuss this in private.” The Director looks at you. “Sorry kid, but you’ll find out what’s we’ve decided soon enough. The guards will show you to your room.”  
Thor leads you back through the door and the guards form around you.  
“Do as they say. Do not do anything foolish.” The God-King orders as he sees you tense and you flush with helpless anger.  
The Tesseract coils and coils and coils inside of you, moving in tight angry circles.  
But you obey.  
There’s nothing else you can do.

*

The quarters you’re assigned are tiny. A small pull-down bed that fills almost the entire room, a stainless steel toilet off to one side and an equally crappy sink with a cold water tap and a broken bar of soap. The floor is made of metal plates and clangs as you step onto it.  
“A cell.” You sigh. “Great.”  
The door slams shut behind you and you hear the lock click.  
The Tesseract turns at the sound and growls darkly.  
“What did you expect?” The God-King asks as you sit down heavily on the thin bed. It’s held to the wall with chains and they creak ominously as it takes your weight.  
“I didn’t, I guess.” You look at the bare walls. “Get me out of here, please.”  
“I can’t, not yet.” The God-King shrugs and sits down next to you. “Be patient.”  
“Screw that.” You snap. “I’ve been patient for months. I’m not just turning onto another frigging lab experiment.”  
“You won’t. I have other avenues to pile on the pressure. I will not allow my brother to take you to Norway.”  
“You hope.” You say and the God-King has the good grace to look away.  
“You should not have surrendered to him.” He tells you.  
“Okay, next time I’ll let him stave my skull in first.”  
“It makes you his political prisoner, it makes him responsible for you in a way he would not have been if SHIELD had taken you into custody.”  
“Great.” You flop back in the bed. “More complications.”  
You stare up at the patched ceiling for a while and try to contain the hissing blue energy inside of you. It’s getting harder and harder to control.

“Majesty?”  
“Yes, child?”  
“When are you going to deal with your brother? I mean someone like that… You can’t let them just wander around unchecked forever.”  
“He’s one of the last pieces of my over-arching plan. Despite his power and his fighting skill, he is awkward in this culture and it makes him less effective than I am here. He also wants to take me alive, which makes things easier from my perspective.”  
“And you need to confront him from a position of power. If it was just you against him, you’d lose.” You say and the God-King looks at you sharply. “It’s just an observation.” You shrug. “You still care for him, even though you hate him and you two have got baggage that goes back your whole life. And he used to kick the shit out of you, right? He broke your ribs when you were kids. He’s the stronger, warrior one and you’re the weaker, thoughtful one. Because you had to be. So you have to beat him through wits rather than through brawn.”  
“And how do you think I am out-manoeuvring him?” The God-King asks and you know this is another test. You consider all the options before you answer.

“One: You’re taking land – he isn’t.” The God-King nods.  
“Two: You’re learning the culture and the values of humanity and you’re brokering deals between rival parties – while he’s sitting in Norway and only coming out for the occasional battle. Three: You’re amassing an army through a stable energy tunnel through space – he hasn’t even found a way to talk to his dad in Asgard since he got here.”  
You continue to look at the ceiling and bite your lip thoughtfully before continuing. 

“I’m learning strategy from you and Black Widow and I’m watching it in action as well. It’s not going to be long before Thor is well and truly screwed. He’ll either have to start attacking innocent people you’ve pressed into war, or surrendering to your army to stop it marching across the globe.” You glance at him. “I’m guessing you’ve already taken half of America right now.”  
“I’ll have their nuclear arsenal by tomorrow night.”  
“See… You’re not even seeing him as a threat anymore, you’re just letting him fight his one to one battles while you take the rug out from under him. You’re making him obsolete. It’s the best way to fight him.”  
The God-King smiles.

“And you want him alive too, don’t you?” You sit up as the point hits home. “Shit, to have your brother as your captive, that’d be a real victory.” You look at the God-King closely. “But it’s not just that, is it? You have to let him think he’s fighting the good fight. Let him believe that he still might actually win before you close the net. You have to fucking bury him.”  
“Hope is a terrible thing.” The God-King says quietly and you look at him and you shiver.  
The Tesseract grumbles inside of you. Still being good, but unhappy at the situation. 

The God-King strokes you hair.  
“My brother always craved immediate gratification. He never stopped to look at the wider world or its ramifications. It’s the same here, he trusts SHIELD to do the large picture thinking for him while he keeps his eyes on the here and now, only looking at what is in front of him. Longer strategy is difficult, it takes time and patience and often it seems as if you will never reach your destination at all – just as everything snaps perfectly into place. You need to learn perseverance and mental stamina to create an effective strategy and my brother never bothered to cultivate those skills.”  
“And he’s putting all his eggs in one basket. If SHIELD falls, he won’t have any contact with the outside world.”  
“No. And I like that human analogy. If the basket falls all your fragile hopes break with it.” The God-King gives a small dark smile. “You humans are very good at metaphors.”

“So will it matter if I do end up in Norway?” You ask. “I mean, apart from the deal to get me back, I’m not part of your plans for SHIELD at all.”  
“No, you’re not.” The God-King agrees. “And it wouldn’t be for long, I hold too much over them for SHIELD to risk my displeasure. It would be a short holiday, an act of hollow defiance on the part of Director Fury. Allowing Thor to talk to Odin won’t solve anything for him, it wouldn’t damage me in the slightest.” He sighs. “But at the same time, it would be acceding to my brother. And I won’t do that, not even for a few short days. He’s taken enough of what’s mine down the years, he doesn’t get to keep you as well.” 

You lie back and let the God-King ghost his fingers in your hair, while the Tesseract growls and spits inside of you. It hates your inaction, it wants to escape. You do too, but it can wait. You’re not in any real danger and right now you need a bit of comfort. If there’s one thing you’ve learned from your new life, it’s to cherish the quiet moments with another person. To accept their quiet companionship and to share in the solidarity it brings.  
It’s rare for the God-King to offer it. It’s how you know things aren’t going his way.

*

The door unlocks about half an hour later and The Crown Prince walks in. He’s carrying a collar and you’re instantly suspicious. It looks like the cuffs, covered in runes and glyphs, but thinner and smaller than the thick monstrosities that weight your arms down. You scramble to your feet in front of him.  
“Everything is going to be good, child. You do not need fear me. I mean you no harm.” He tells you and you shake your head in denial.

“So what have you decided on my behalf?” You ask.  
The God-King slides off the bed and stands behind you protectively.  
“You are going to come with me to Norway, where we will take the Tesseract from your body. If it is truly stronger than you, it is not safe to allow you to keep it for longer than is necessary. Jane will find a way to use it safely and I will be able to find a way to cure you through the knowledge of my people. I want to help you, child – that is all. To undo what my brother has done.”  
“And if I don’t want to co-operate?” You ask defiantly.  
The Tesseract roars its denial inside of you. Its claws digging in hard as it prepares to spring.  
It’s all you can do to keep it in check.  
“This collar is lighter than the cuffs.” Thor continues as if you haven’t said anything at all. “You will be able to bear the weight far more easily. But its magic is just as potent, it will keep you as safe as the manacles do.”  
He steps forward and you back away. The Tesseract snarls and coils inside of you, digging ever deeper, trying to find a way around your veto. You struggle with it as you try to resist the Asgardian Prince in front of you. 

“No.” You say firmly. “I’m not going to accept it.”  
“Child…” The God-King starts to say and you snarl at him, not caring if the Crown Prince sees anymore. The God-King takes a step backward, concern written all over his face. You turn from the hologram and back to the true threat before you. The Tesseract is driving you to the brink of madness and you can’t take this anymore.  
No more orders. No more passivity. You have to fight or the Tesseract will take over and the entire Carrier might die.

“No!” You shout out, not certain who you’re talking to anymore. You try one last desperate attempt to reason with the blonde idiot in front of you. To keep the Tesseract in check. “I’m done with this. I’m done being a victim. What if I like what I am now? What I’ve become? What if I like all the lessons I’ve learned? The person I’ve grown into? You don’t have the right to do this!”  
“You’re childhood has been stolen…” The Crown Prince begins.  
“Screw that!” You scream at him, spit flying from your mouth. “I let it go, because I had to. And I don’t miss it, not a bit of it. I like who I am now, I know myself better than I ever have and I am not just going to let you fucking shackle me.”  
“Very well.” And the Crown Prince takes you by the shoulder and pushes you to the ground.

You scream and try to resist, but you can’t. He’s impossibly strong and your arms are bound to your front, making your struggles comical.  
“Hush now, child. I didn’t want it to be like this.” He tells you as he pins you to the floor under one knee. He isn’t hurting you but the humiliation is terrible.  
“Help me!” You scream at the God-King. “Stop this!”  
“I can’t.” The God-King says, clenching and unclenching his hands in frustration. “I have to let this happen. Be patient child, calm down, he won’t hurt you.”  
“No!” You shout out, struggling with the potent force inside of you. At the same moment as the Crown Prince unlocks the cuffs, you lose your fight with the Tesseract. The heavy manacles hit the floor and the room explodes. 

…

…

You roll onto your side, your ears ringing and look at the shimmering blue force-field around your body. The bed is nothing but fibres floating through the air, the walls have buckled and the toilet and the sink are leaking. But, thankfully, it seems to have been contained to just this room. Thor is lying on the floor, unconscious from the blast. You stand as the force-field disappears and rub at your arms and wrists, relieved at how light they feel. The God-King’s hologram has disappeared, you think the Tesseract has eaten it. The blue light jumps from your palm in a solid line and cuts through the door lock as if it was paper, tearing through the metal with no regard to its thickness.  
The door swings outward on its hinges.  
The Tesseract growls at you, warning you not to resist.  
You take the hint. 

You stop at the first terminal you come to, plugging into the system. You take a map of the area into your head and search for the other few things you need to know. The Quinjet you came in is still parked in the same place, and Filo is still inside, being interrogated. So far, so straightforward. You hack into the system, taking the codes you need to get permission for the Quinjet to take off. The computer helps you happily with a little push from the Tesseract and you file the launch time for the next fifteen minutes. Then you reach into the camera system and fry everything from that corridor to here. You don’t have time or the inclination to do anything else. You just want to get out. To get the Tesseract away from the population of the Carrier. The destination is no longer important. 

The Tesseract surges around you, killing anyone in your path, about thirty people in all, some soldiers, some civilians and some staff members. You couldn’t stop it if you wanted to, it’s impatient and furious and you think if you pulled back from the plan it would just take you over at this point – reaching into your mind like the God-King does and forcing you to obey. But you don’t want to resist, you’re both on the same page. You want to get out of here so badly it hurts.

The ramp is up on the Quinjet, but again the Tesseract leaps and the door begins to open. The interrogators turn at the sound and you’re the last thing they see. You ask the Tesseract to leave Filo alone and it agrees. It sees him as a useful machine, it is happy to allow him to keep functioning so long as he works in line with the Tesseract’s wishes. You run to the old man, place you palm against his handcuffs and say the magic spell the God-King taught you. The cuffs spring open and Filo looks at you thoughtfully.  
“We’re leaving.” You tell him. “You know how to fly this?”  
He nods.  
“Good.” You stand and hurry to the controls. “I’ll turn on the power.”  
“If we don’t have clearance, SHIELD will blow us from the sky.” He man says as he sits down in the pilot seat.  
“We have clearance for the next minute and half.” You tell him as the Quinjet hums to life under your hands. You concentrate for a second and the hanger door begins to open and the Quinjet’s ramp begins to close.  
“Very well. What’s our code sequence?” You tell him along with the Quinjet identification and he talks smoothly into the radio. You’re impressed at how cool he is under pressure, he winks at you as he talks.  
Then he eases the controls forward and you leave the Carrier without any problems at all.

*

“Child, what the fuck are you doing?” The God-King’s hologram screams at you. He appears suddenly ten minutes into the flight and strides towards you, incandescent with fury.  
The Tesseract snarls and prepares to leap, but you calm it with quick, careful strokes. You tell it not to worry, that you’ve got this and it calms down, rumbling and watching carefully.

“I’m coming home, Majesty.” You tell him. “If you can’t help me, then I’ll help myself.”  
“You will turn this ship around and you will go back.” He snarls, pointing backwards towards the way you came as he looms over you.  
“No.” You say stubbornly. “I won’t.”  
“Child.” And his voice holds so much warning, so much promise. You swallow down your fear and you dig you heels in.  
“I’m coming home to you.” You tell him again. “I want to get to New York, the Tesseract wants to go to New York and Filo – well you want to come too, right?”  
“Right.” Filo agrees.  
“This isn’t part of the plan.” The God-King says flatly.  
“But it’s working in your favour.” You look at him confused. “Why wouldn’t you want me to do this?”  
“Because my brother is now awake and flying after you. If you don’t turn this thing around, he will blow it out of the sky.”  
“Right.” You crouch down, pressing your palm to the floor and the Tesseract agrees with your idea. It starts to make a force-field around the Quinjet.  
“No.” The God-King says and reaches out, stopping you from completing the action. 

“What are you doing?” You ask as the energy coils and whines inside of you.  
“You cannot allow the Tesseract free reign like this. You cannot let it call the shots. Do you know how dangerous this energy is, how quickly it is learning? Soon you will be completely subsumed by its power.”  
“But I’m coming home…” You plead with him.  
“Land. The. Plane.” The God-King tells you with gritted teeth and the pain starts behind your eyes.  
“No.” You whimper. “No… stop... I’m coming home to you…”  
The Tesseract snarls and leaps at the hologram and the God-King deflects it away with such force that it shrieks in fear and flees back into your body. The energy sears through your wires, forcing you to the floor and making you writhe in agony.  
“Enough.” He shouts. “Filo land this plane or my brother will try to blow you out of the sky.” He pauses for effect. “And I will let him.”  
Filo nods, looks down at his instruments and the Quinjet begins to descend. 

The God-King looks down at you, impassive to the pain on your face and the betrayal in your eyes.  
“This is for your own good.” He tells you. “When you realise how close you came, you will thank me.”  
“Don’t let him collar me.” You beg him.  
“I have to.” The God-King tells you softly. “Or the Tesseract will eat you from the inside out in just over an hour and I am too far away to stop it.”  
The energy hisses inside of you, coiling and flexing its terrible claws. You look up at the God-King and you know he is right. You’ve been so caught up in everything you hadn’t felt how deep it had been digging inside of you. In a short while it will know everything you are and take your body for itself.  
The God-King sees the fear in your eyes and gives a small nod.  
“Let him collar you. Go to Norway for a few days. Rest, relax. Prepare yourself for your return home. Work out how to fight the creature inside of you from a place of safety.” He says and you nod in agreement. 

He crouches down and starts to stroke your face as you lie there, looking up at him.  
“It shouldn’t have happened so quickly. I was expecting you to last another day, at least. But your fear and your anger…” He shakes his head. “It weakened you to it. I tried to take your mind off your situation, to focus you on other things, to lessen your fear and stress… but my brother, as always, bumbled in without any tact at all and messed everything up. You should have had more faith in me. You should have done as you were told.”  
“I’m sorry…” You whisper back and he nods.  
“It’s too late now.” He smiles down at you sadly. “I am going to argue with him. We are going to fight. But it will be all for show. He will expect it and I can’t let him win this easily.”  
“Okay.” The pain in your wires is beginning to ease and you get up slowly until you can sit crossed-legged on the floor.  
“Whatever I say, I won’t mean it. Do not take me at my word.”  
“Okay.”

“Filo?” The God-King looks up at the pilot. “What are your plans?”  
“There is an island a half mile away. I have signalled to the Crown Prince we intend to land. He is now flying beside us.” Filo sighs. “It was a fun escape while it lasted.”  
“Very good, Filo.” The God-King says dryly. “I am glad that one of you has some sense.”  
“Thank you, Majesty. I hope you will remember this moment when I turn up at your door.”  
The God-King laughs and turns as the plane settles on the ground.  
“Well then time to play.”  
He turns and walks down the descending ramp and you scrabble to follow him.

*

“Hello brother.” The God-King says jauntily as the Crown Prince lands heavily on the rocks. You stumble down the ramp behind him and the hologram moves to give you room. He puts his arm around your shoulders as you stand beside him.  
“Loki.” The Crown Prince growls. “I knew you’d be behind this.”  
The God-King laughs.  
“Still blaming me, brother?” He asks. “I thought you’d have grown out of it by now.”  
“This child is dangerous.” The Prince stabs his finger down at the floor, he holds his hammer in the other. “You have to let me contain them. For all our sakes.”  
“Dangerous to you maybe.” The God-King raises a ghost hand to your chin and you look up at him. “For me they are the model of good behaviour.”  
“I know what you’ve done to them, what you will do if you get them to return. Brother, please, stop this madness.”  
“There is no madness here.” The God-King says so quietly it scares you. “Only gross stupidity.”

The Crown Prince looks at you.  
“Child, you know what you have inside of you cannot be allowed to roam free.”  
“And you know what’s best for me?” You ask turning to him.  
“I know I can save you.”  
You look back at the God-King.  
“I do not need saving.” You tell him and the God-King smiles down at you.  
“He’s twisting your mind child.” The Crown Prince tells you. “Making you think you are safe when you are not. You are nothing but a tool to him, to use and then discard once he is done. You cannot trust him.”  
You look back at the Crown Prince.  
“I cannot trust either of you.” You laugh bitterly. “But at least he’s honest about it.”

“Loki.” The Crown Prince, seeing he cannot reason with you turns to his brother. “Let them go.”  
“No.” The God-King shakes his head. “The child is mine.”  
“You cannot own a human. They are not a pet, not a creature you can possess.”  
“I beg to differ.” The God-King looks down at you. “Kneel.” He commands.  
You drop obediently to the ground.  
“You see brother?” The God-King says walking forward. “You see how easily they can be tamed?”  
“This is not how things should be. Look at yourself, bullying a mortal child. Does it make you feel powerful, Loki, making a fourteen year old beg for their life?”  
“I’ll take what I can get.” The God-King spreads his arms, laughing. “But really, I have made grown men weep and women plead for their family’s lives. I have not restricted myself to just children. Tony Stark’s screams for example are quite a thing to behold.” 

Thor face drops in horror.  
“You have hurt him?” He asks and the hammer starts to glow.  
“Hurt him and more besides.” The God-King shrugs. “But nothing permanent – yet.”  
“Loki…”  
“Oh put it away, Thor. I’m just a hologram, you can’t beat me down like you usually do.”  
“Then the child…”  
“Is alone, save a pilot and the Infinity Energy inside them.” The God-King says. “But I warn you Thor, your friend Stark, your American Captain and the archer Barton are all under my sway. Choose your actions carefully.”  
The Crown Prince holds back, deciding what to do and the God-King gloats.  
“Not to mention your precious mortal, Eric Selvig. You hold a special place in your heart for that one, do you not?” 

“Selvig’s alive?” Thor puts the hammer at his belt and walks up to the God-King. “I thought the Tesseract had killed him.”  
“No, he lives and he is safe and well cared for, for now.” The God-King smiles. “I must admit to a little fondness for him myself. I have spared him the Sceptre this time around and he works to please me.”  
“Loki…” But this time the Crown Prince’s voice is pleading. “Why, why must you do this?”  
The God-King looks away, his eye falling on you as you kneel in the dirt.  
“Because we all made our choices and now we must abide by them.”

The Crown Prince growls and turns away. He starts to walk towards you.  
“I warn you brother.” The God-King says. “I have been fair so far. I have left you alone, out of respect for our family ties and let your mortals be, out of courtesy. You chose your pets and I abided by your choices.”  
“They are not pets, Loki.” The Crown Prince says through gritted teeth.  
“Whatever you need to tell yourself to get by, sweet brother.” The God-King smiles. “We both know the truth.”  
The Crown Prince reaches for the collar at his belt and the Tesseract screams. You feel the God-King reaching out, holding it in your body as it writhes and howls. You start to whimper.  
“Easy, child.” The Crown Prince says, thinking you are addressing his actions. “This will not hurt.”  
“I warn you.” The God-King calls out. “You do this brother and the gloves are off. You take my mortal and all of yours become fair game.”  
“Come and try to take Jane from me.” Thor says, slamming the collar closed around your neck. “And see what I will do to you.” He grabs your shoulder and forces you to stand.  
“You will not kneel to me.” He tells you. “Not ever.”  
You lick you lips and nod in understanding.

As you walk back up the ramp, you turn to look at the God-King’s hologram. He nods and raises his hand in farewell.

*

“You?” The Crown Prince says as he see Filo at the controls.  
“Who else?” Filo flashes him a toothy, old man grin.  
“You know how to fly one of these planes?”  
“I know how to pilot almost anything.” Filo shrugs. “I was well trained as a young man.”  
“You fuel is almost full…”  
“We were running off blue energy.” Filo tells him.  
“The Tesseract?”  
“A very interesting power source.”  
“Yes.” The Crown Prince glances at you. “It is.”  
He punches in some new co-ordinates.  
“Can you get us there?” He asks and Filo looks at the gauges.  
“Easily. We have plenty of fuel left for this trip.”  
“Good.”  
He waits until Filo has started the engines and the Quinjet starts to lift from the ground before turning to you and smiling.

The Crown Prince walks up and leads you into one of the compartments with a bed in it.  
“Lie down, get some sleep, we’ll be a few hours yet.”  
“What, no bed time story?” You ask sarcastically and he frowns at you.  
“Do you still have those at your age?” He asks quite seriously. “I thought it was for younger children…”  
“Never mind.” You flop down on the bed.  
“No.” The Crown Prince sits down next to you. “We have time.”  
You look at him in surprise.

“Okay.” You say. “Tell me about Asgard.”  
“What would you like to know?”  
“A story about you and the God-King in happier times. A time when you fought together.”  
“The God-King?”  
“Loki.”  
“That is what you call him?”  
“Yes.” You sigh and roll your eyes. “Please don’t make it an issue.”  
“Very well.” The Crown Prince leans forward and starts to tuck you in. “Have you heard the story about the time we were in Nornheim? I slayed over a hundred warriors and Loki cast a great mist to cover our escape.”  
“That sounds nice.” You agree. “Tell me about that.”  
As he sits back to start his tale, you’re struck by how different he is to his brother. Powerful and frightening, but gentle and considerate as well.  
He doesn’t stand a chance.

You lie back and let the Crown Prince’s voice flow around you. It makes you feel warm and strangely safe and comforted.  
You drift off to sleep with tales of battle and feats of great bravery running through your mind.  
Deep inside you. The Tesseract sits quietly and grumbles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fucking Tesseract slowed this chapter up again.  
> It's important to the plot and the kid's development and the story and everything, but damnit - the sooner I can kick it's little blue energy-form ass into a crater somewhere the better...
> 
> If you think I'm writing the Tesseract well, thank you for the compliment - because the little bugger does not want to be written well.   
> It's difficult and tough and moody and dangerous and it just *won't conform* to what I need.  
> You know how some characters just won't do what they're told? You're trying to write from A to B, but they want to go off and see what the letter J might entail...?   
> Fucking Infinity Stones, thinking they're the most powerful thing in the universe...
> 
> *Takes a deep breath.*  
> Sorry about that, rant over. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. And feel free to comment ;)


	36. The Kindness of Darcy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kid hits it off with Darcy.  
> With Thor and Jane, not so much.
> 
> Triggers: Uhm, not sure.   
> Maybe a bit of PTSD as far as the kid goes and some news reels of what happening around the world otherwise, no problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter, I tried to break it down, but it wouldn't happen.  
> I'll probably end up posting long chapters on this part of the story, it's just the way it's tying together. 
> 
> So slightly longer waits, but more when I update.

The Quinjet hums as it lands on the ground and you’re bouncing on the soles of your feet, itching to get out and back on land again. The Crown Prince is watching you with a mixture of suspicion and amusement.  
“It’s snowing outside.” He tells you. “Do you not want to wrap up warm?”  
You’re back in you HYDRAish Uniform. You found it in one of the cubby-hole spaces, dry cleaned and pressed, you’re impressed at how they got rid of the blood. The coat had been beyond saving, but the trousers and the shirt are good and fit you well. They’re way better than the SHIELD jumpsuits. There are several SHIELD standard issue jackets on the side, but all of them bury you. You smile at him and shake your head.  
“I like the cold.” You tell him.  
“There is cold and then there is snow.” He says calmly. You look at his bare arms.  
“I don’t see you in a coat.” You tell him and he smiles.  
“I am not mortal.” He says and you grin.  
“Well neither am I.” You rub your thumb over the circle in your palm. “Well, not completely, not anymore.”  
The Crown Prince shakes his head in pity and disagreement.

“You are in my care now and I do not want you to get ill. You will put on a jacket.” He says firmly. You go to complain again, see his expression and decide not to chance it.  
“Fine.” You go and grab the nearest one, throwing it on haphazardly. “But really, I don’t need it.”  
“Enough.” The Crown Prince snaps, his voice frustrated and you bite your lip to try and hide your fear. He walks over and you steel yourself for punishment, but he just zips up the coat. “There, much better.”  
You look down at the long arms that go way over your hands and you smile politely.  
“Thank you.” You say to try and smooth things over and the Crown Prince nods in reply.  
“There is a path, leading down the hill. You will go straight to it and stay on it all the way to the observatory.” He tells you and you nod in understanding. “We are in a very remote location and there are cliffs nearby. I want you to be safe.”  
“Sure.” You agree.  
“You are my charge now and I take my duties seriously. While I am here, you will not come to harm.”  
“I want to run. I’ve been in here hours. Can I run?” You ask him and he laughs.  
“Yes. But stay on the path and do not go out of my sight.”  
“Okay.” You nod.  
A soon as the ramp descends you push off and run out into the afternoon air.

*

“Hey Thor!” A woman is standing out in the snow wearing a vast amount of knitwear in varied and clashing colours. She appears to be making a snowman.  
“Darcy.” Thor smiles in greeting. His entire face lights up when he does that, it’s wonderful to behold. “Is Jane inside?”  
“Duh.” Darcy says. “Like she’d be out here when there’s science to discover. And the snow gets boring after a while, I guess.” She glances at you and Filo as you make your way down the path.  
“Who are the guests?” She asks with interest. She stands up and starts dusting the snow off her knitted mittens.  
“Ah. Yes. Darcy, this is Filo and…” He pauses looking at you.  
“Everyone just calls me Child.” You shrug. “Whatever you like, go for it.”  
“You don’t have a name?” Darcy asks frowning.  
“Look, do we have to do this here?” You ask.  
“Of course not.” Thor nods. “Let’s get you inside and warm.”  
You nod at Darcy politely and open the door for everyone to go inside.

“Thor!” There’s another woman sitting at a table in the lounge. It’s covered in charts and pieces of paper. She gets up and instantly runs to the Crown Prince the second she sees him. He catches her neatly and hugs her to his chest. The show of affection makes you feel extremely uncomfortable. She looks at you and Filo.  
“I’m The Child and this is Filo.” You say quickly. “Now where’s the kettle?”  
She wordlessly points to the open plan kitchen off to one side and you head in that direction without saying anything else.  
“The Child?” The woman asks in confusion. “Wait, Loki’s child? You brought Loki’s child here?”  
“Where else were they to go?” The Crown Prince says sadly. “Their family are dead, they have no known relatives outside of New York and I could not allow my brother to take them back into bondage.”  
You try to ignore him as you take the kettle and fill it with water from the sink.

You look up as the woman walks towards you. Her movements are slow and careful, like she’s dealing with some sort of flighty animal.  
“Hi.” She says. “I’m Jane.”  
You shrug.  
“Pleased to meet you.” You put the kettle on its stand and turn it on. Then you go to the side to find a clean cup.  
“Where’s the coffee?” You ask and she walks to a set of cupboards on the wall.  
“Medium, strong or Java Lava?” She asks.  
“Strong.” You answer and she puts down a jar of instant for you.  
“Milks? Sugar?”  
“Just milk, thanks.”  
Jane goes to the fridge and produces a plastic container. You look at the label.  
“What’s a litre?” You ask.  
“European system of liquid measurement.” She sees the look on your face and changes tack. “Not quite two pints.” She translates and you nod.  
“Okay.” You glance at her. “You want one?”  
“No, I’m good.”  
“Okay.” You turn away to go back to waiting for the kettle to boil.

“Uhm…” Jane says uncertainly after you steadily ignore her for a full minute.  
“Yeah?” You glance at her. Looking her up and down to try and work out what her deal is.  
“Can I see it?” She asks uncertainly. “Your palm, I mean? I can see some of the marks – they’re really pretty. Can I see the rest?”  
“Sure.” You lift your hand for her and she takes is gently in both of hers, running her fingers over the designs.  
“So pretty…” She murmurs.  
“Yeah even magical bondage in Asgard is pretty.” You say and she looks up at you, biting her bottom lip, her face a picture of sympathy. You look away in disgust, you’d meant it as a joke.  
“You want to take photos?” You ask her, only just keeping the sarcasm from your voice. “It might help with your research. Mr Selvig said they looked like part of the Bifrost rune design.”  
“Yes.” She turns your hand carefully. “I can see what he means…” She stops and looks up at you. “Eric’s alive?”  
“And in service to the God-King Loki.” You say his full name so you don’t have to keep explaining.  
“God-King?” She says her voice dripping with distaste.  
“You live under his roof for a few months and see how quickly you learn to call him that.” You snap, sick of all these judgemental assholes who don’t have to live with the consequences of using his real name. “He accepts ‘Your Majesty’ as well.” You add as an after-thought.  
“I’m sure he does.” Jane agrees diplomatically.

The kettle boils and you pull your hand back to make your coffee.  
“You want a drink, Filo?” You call across the room. He’s in discussion with the Crown Prince, but you’re not sure what about.  
“Tea please.” He calls back and Jane finds the teabags for you.  
“Java please.” Darcy calls as she walks in, having divested herself of most of the knitwear.  
You sort a drink out for her as well.  
You put them on a tray and take them to the table next to the large, flat-screen television at Jane’s direction.  
“None for me?” Thor says jovially as he glances over the drinks and you freeze midway to putting the tray down.  
_Oh shit, I forgot the Crown Prince – How could I forget him?_  
You can feel your breath quickening as you wince, waiting for the pain to start.  
“Thor!” Jane snaps. “You should have said when we were making.” She takes the tray from you and puts it on the table. Filo moves beside you and puts his hand on your shoulder in reassurance.  
“What do you want? I’ll get it.” Darcy volunteers.  
And, just like that, everything’s fine. You let out a slow breath.  
“Come.” Filo says quietly. “Sit down. All is good.” He can feel you trembling.  
You sit down on the edge of the couch and Filo sits beside you, putting himself between you and Crown Prince. You smile at him gratefully.  
That’s when you see all the bruises on Filo’s face.

You reach up to touch them and he takes your hand and puts it carefully back on your lap.  
“I didn’t. I didn’t think…” You tell him, your voice contrite.  
“You had a very angry alien prince shouting at you and blue energy in your veins.” Filo says good-naturedly. “I understand why you were not thinking of my welfare.”  
“More in my wires, than in my veins…” You say and he nods.  
“I have had worse. But you…” Filo shakes his head. “And I thought my life at fourteen was unfair.”  
“I’ll live.” You reach for your coffee at the same time as the Crown Prince moves and you pause, thinking he’s moving because you have. But no, Darcy’s bringing him his drink. You take your coffee from the tray and try to force yourself to relax. Filo watches and smiles, patting your leg.  
“It must be hard, wondering what the new rules are.” He agrees quietly and you smile at his understanding. You bite you lip, showing him for just a second how frightened you really are and he squeezes your leg again. You’re glad he’s still around.

“So.” Darcy grabs the remote just before the Crown Prince reaches it and sticks her tongue out at him. “What shall we watch?”  
“Perhaps something light hearted?” The Prince says, glancing at you. “The animation with the cat and the feisty mouse perhaps?”  
“Tom and Jerry?” Darcy asks and the Prince nods. “But we’ve already seen them like ten times each.”  
“Perhaps the child has not?” The Prince asks hopefully and you smile.  
“I think I’d seen all of them by the time I was five.” You say, sipping at your coffee. “But sure, if that’s what you want.”  
“No.” Jane shakes her head. “You’re the guest, you get to choose.”  
You glance at the Crown Prince and then at Filo. The old man gives an encouraging nod.

“Can I watch the news?” You ask timidly. “I love cartoons, sure, but… Uhm… I haven’t… I don’t think the God-King owns a TV, at least I haven’t seen one and HYDRA kinda kept me in the dark and…”  
“Why am I not surprised that Loki doesn’t have a TV?” Darcy rolls her eyes.  
“Well he must have one.” You correct yourself. “I mean, he keeps up with Mr Stark’s nicknames, but I haven’t seen one myself… Not since before the Battle for New York…”  
“What kind of names?” Darcy asks and you pause to think.  
“Uhm…” You look away, embarrassed. “Jafar, Kermit… I think he called him Chewy once… He called him Xena at breakfast… We had bacon pancakes, it was great…” You pause as everyone smiles and Darcy laughs. “Oh, yeah, Great and Powerful Oz…” You laugh with them. “And, and Ming the Merciless…” You pause and bite your lip, suddenly contrite again. “But, uh, Captain America hit him for that one…”  
“Friend Steve hit Tony?” The Crown Prince asks and you nod.  
“Yeah.” You gesture to your chest. “He’s been Sceptred.”  
“Ah.” The Prince nods sadly.  
“He’s really angry all the time now.” You sigh and look down at your lap. “Mr Stark says it isn’t his fault… But he hits really hard…”  
Everyone falls silent, looking at you and glancing between themselves.  
“So.” Darcy says, raising the remote. “The news.”

You watch intently, taking everything in. It’s a 24hr news reel from the BBC and the stark way they talk about the war is at odds to your normal American news broadcasts. There’s no bravado at all, just one atrocity after the next. There are so many refugees from the US, most have just climbed on boats and headed out into the ocean, anything to escape the Chitauri and the horror they bring with them. The UN and NATO are working together to save as many people as they can, but the death toll is staggering.  
“Maybe the cartoons are better…” Jane says uncertainly after five minutes but you shake your head.  
“No. I need to know this. I need to see.” You tell her firmly and Darcy hides the remote down the side of the couch so the Crown Prince can’t get hold of it. 

There’s a broadcast from one of the cities in Canada, but you miss which one because the Tesseract hums inside of you when it sees the force-field on the screen. The reporter is outside taking live video and testimonials from the people trapped on the inside. The blue force-field doesn’t block out sound so they’re queuing up to let their families know that they’re still alive, that food is rationed, but they aren’t starving. That they have heating and electricity and decent medical services. Their voices are strained and frightened for the most part and they often end the interview asking for the governments of the world to help them.  
There are thousands of such videos on the news programme’s website so worried relatives can trawl through to find their loved ones. They play a short clip of the God-King addressing the leaders of Canada from his throne room in the Empire State. You shiver and sit back in your seat at the hard look in his eyes and the sneer on his face. He’s dressed in full regalia, with armour and helm and his voice is stern as he tells them the people will be safe and unharmed so long as his demands are met.  
“Canada’s staying out of the fighting because of this.” Jane tells you quietly. “But it means that they’re putting everything into refugee rescue instead, so lots more Americans are being saved every day.”  
“That’s good.” You say nodding. “I’m glad some people are getting out.” 

It switches to the war effort. Getting short talks on the ground from what looks like an army of militiamen.  
“Where are the troops?” You ask.  
“Mostly dead. Or captured. Or turned.” The Crown Prince shrugs and sighs. “My brother waited for a long while before striking out from New York. By the time he brought the war out from under the Tesseract’s protection, the Chitauri darkened the sky with their ships. For every prisoner he kept he executed two more and left the heads for the survivors to collect. He would take over people with the Sceptre and send them after their own comrades-in-arms. He used his illusions to create fear and confusion. The warriors of your Realm were not ready for his deceptive and unspeakably cruel combat strategies.”  
“Yeah, we have conventions and stuff.” Darcy agrees. “Things we agreed not to do to each other over the centuries.”  
“But Loki doesn’t have to follow any of them.” The Prince sighs.  
“I think he looked them up just so he could subvert them.” Darcy replies. “I mean some of the things he did were inspired. Insane and vicious, but still… Once this is over they’ll be debates about this stuff for decades.”  
You glance away from the television to look at her, but you don’t say anything. The way things are going there won’t be much of humanity left to debate anything.

A map shows up on the screen. Through a few clever graphics, along with arrows and colour combinations, it shows the God-King’s progression so far.  
“The arrows coming from Mexico are HYDRA, right?” You ask.  
“Yes. They’ve been held up though, since we took Sokovia.” The Crown Prince sits forward. “They haven’t lost any ground yet, but they haven’t moved in two days either.”  
“Maybe they’re re-negotiating their contract with the God-King.” You say. “After his part in helping SHIELD take their base, I’d be pissed off.”  
“Perhaps.” The Prince agrees.  
“It’s what I’d do.” Darcy agrees.  
“You know much about this kind of thing, then?” You ask her.  
“Majored in political science.” She says nodding. “I mean I hate what’s happening, but from an academic stand point this is completely fascinating. Loki’s a real pro. He knows what he’s doing.”

“And yet he almost lost the battle before it started.” The Crown Prince sits back and shakes his head. “I do not understand his initial strategy in the slightest, it was like he gave us an open invitation to what he was doing. He showed us where the Tesseract was and he goaded us to come and fight him.”  
“Maybe he wanted to lose.” You shrug. The Crown Prince frowns at you.  
“But why would he want that?” He asks.  
“Why wouldn’t he want that?” You say. “I mean look at it, look at where New York is on the map. It’s an island, way off to the side. Would you pick it as a foothold? You could get cut off really easily.” 

“Yeah, but everyone attacks New York.” Darcy rolls her eyes. “Like in every movie.”  
“Okay, so it was a statement of intent.” You agree. “But if I was the God-King I’d make this massive illusion in New York and then I’d set up somewhere else. Draw you all to New York, make my statement and then emerge somewhere else, somewhere clever. But instead he puts everything into the one assault in a really obvious, movie bad guy kind of way.” You sit back, staring hard at the screen. “He wanted to lose and he wanted to be seen losing.”  
“Again, why would he do that?” The Crown Prince asks. You look at him and you think of the vast mind in space, the one that touched you like the void itself. The might and terror that calls itself Thanos. The one that tortures the God-King and brings him terrible nightmares. Wouldn’t it just be easier to lose, in a public way? To show that you tried your best, but failed? To escape your terrible master by being overwhelmed and taken back to Asgard? Sure, you’d be a war criminal, but what could they do to you that wasn’t anything half as bad as Thanos?  
And you know in the same heartbeat you cannot say anything of this to any of them.  
“I have no idea.” You say blankly.  
“So Tom and Jerry?” Jane asks with brittle brightness.  
“It gets my vote.” Darcy agrees and fishes the remote from the couch.  
You watch the cartoons with half a mind, while your thoughts hurry one after the other. You can tell the same thing is happening with everyone else as well, though the Crown Prince laughs often and heartily at the capers on the screen.

*

The rest of the day is calm and revolves around domestic chores. You wash the dishes and put the bins out, you help Darcy chop the vegetables in preparation for dinner while Jane goes back to her research and Filo and the Crown Prince go back to their in-depth discussions. Then you go out with Darcy to help her finish the snowman. It’s starting to get dark, but you deliberately ignore the awful jacket you were forced to wear on the way here.  
“Aren’t you cold?” Darcy asks as she puts on a few extra layers.  
“Nope.” You say and head towards the door. “In fact the colder it is, the more comfortable I feel.”  
“That’s weird.” She says and you nod.  
“It’s part of the Thing.” You wave your palm at her. “I don’t know why it’s happening, but I like it.”  
“Ah. The Thing.” Darcy nods knowledgably.  
Half way through the dishes you’d both agreed to just call stuff you don’t understand about your condition the Thing, so that it didn’t lead to awkward or frustrating dead ends for you. Jane wasn’t overly impressed by the idea, but agreed to make a list of ‘the Thing’ topics to look into in more detail later on.

You get to the snowman and circle it critically.  
“It’s a bit lopsided.” You say.  
“Hey, you try and get a perfect sphere with mittens.” Darcy counters. “And anyway, the snow out here is really powdery.”  
“What were you going to use for eyes?”  
“Well we don’t have any coal, so…” Darcy shrugs. “Cherry tomatoes or something?”  
“Sounds good.” You agree. “I’ll go get them, you start getting the snow together.”  
You head back in as Darcy starts to look at the snowman critically again.  
“And a carrot.” She calls as you go through the door. “Don’t forget the carrot.”  
“I won’t.” You call back, waving your arm to show you’ve heard.

You head to the kitchen and get the vegetables from the fridge and then you pause and look around. Jane is deeply involved in her work and The Crown Prince and Filo are nowhere to be seen. For the first time you’ve been here, you’re alone. You glance at the cutlery drawer, back at Jane and then open it as quietly as you can. There are several sharp knives in there. Carefully, making as little noise as possible, you take one from the drawer and place it in your waistband at your back. You pull your shirt out to conceal it and instantly feel more safe and secure.  
You gather the vegetables and head out to help with the snowman. 

Darcy’s levelled the original and is flattening the snow around the area.  
“I thought we’d try again.” She says. “Now that I have help.”  
“Sounds good to me.” You start gathering snow to make a solid base sphere for the body.  
“It must be great.” She says as she stomps the ground snow into a compact layer. “To not get cold anymore.”  
“Oh I still get cold.” You tell her. “It just doesn’t hurt anymore. It doesn’t make my skin go numb or my bones ache.” You pause. “You ever been so cold your bones ache?”  
“Sure, who hasn’t?”  
“Not me, not anymore.”  
“So what does it actually feel like?” Darcy gets on her knees and starts smoothing the edges of the building platform she’s created.  
“Uhm…” You pause, looking up at the grey cloud cover. “Like… You know when the sun comes out and warms you and makes you feel all nice and tingly?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Kinda like that, only reversed.”  
“Weird.”  
“Yeah, it is.” You agree.

Darcy gets up quickly and something large and clunky falls from her pocket.  
“Crap.” Her hands are full of snowball. “Can you get that for me?”  
“Sure.” You stop pushing your sphere in the snow and walk over. You pick it up and move it in your hands thoughtfully.  
“A taser?” You ask.  
“Can never be too careful.” Darcy agrees. “Put it back in my pocket will ya?”  
“You carry a taser for protection?” You ask, uncomfortably aware of the knife at your back.  
“Sure, it’s cutting edge technology.” Darcy puts her snowball down with a pat and starts to push it.  
You laugh as you put the taser back in her pocket.  
“Not really.” You tell her, walking back to your snowball.  
“Hey it worked on Thor.” She says defensively and you stop and consider it.  
“How?” You ask, thinking back to when he called the lightening down on you. “He seems pretty immune to electricity.”  
“When he first came here, he was mortal or something. His father was pissed with him and cut him off. He couldn’t even use Mew Mew.”  
“Mew Mew?”  
“His hammer.”  
“Oh, Mjolnir.”  
“How’d you know that?”  
“The God-King told me.”  
Darcy finishes making the snowman’s head and sits back watching you finish the body.

“You’re a real quick study, you know that?” She asks, picking up snow in handfuls and crumbling it through in her mittens.  
“Learn or die.” You shrug. “It’ a pretty effective teaching technique.”  
“What’s he like?” She asks. “Y’know, Loki?”  
“Stern, serious, terrifying…” You shrug.  
“Nah, I get that. But what’s he really like, as a person?”  
You don’t say anything for a while. You finish the body and push it up onto the smoothed out snow platform.  
“Hurting.” You say eventually. “He’s in a lot of pain.” You start to pile up the snow to secure the body. “Emotionally I mean.”  
“Like depression?”  
“Maybe.” You consider. “Probably. I don’t care what anyone says, he isn’t crazy. He’s hardcore, no doubt and he doesn’t play around, but…” You frown. “No one gets him. No one understands him. He’s… He’s alone.”  
“Sounds to me like someone gets him.” Darcy says and you look at her in surprise.  
“I guess.” You start compacting the snow and smoothing it so the sphere of the body connects neatly with the platform. “Maybe that’s why he didn’t kill me.”

Darcy picks up the head and carries it over. She holds it in place on top of the body while you start building the neck.  
“You’re tough, you know that? Like, super tough.” She tells you as you go to get more snow. “If Loki was here right now, I don’t know what I’d do.”  
“Use the taser?” You ask, smiling.  
“Nah, I think I’d freeze up. Proper freeze up. I don’t do the combat thing.” She bites her bottom lip. “And the idea of being in the same room as him? Flat out terrifying.”  
“You’re not scared of the Crown Prince.” You say coming back with an armful of snow and dumping it by the snowman.  
“What, Thor?” Darcy laughs. “He’s a big, soft puppy.”  
“With a big, skull splitting hammer.” You point out.  
“Well, yeah.” She admits. “But he uses it to defend people.”  
“Define ‘people’.” You continue making the neck of the snowman. “I bet there are plenty of people in Sokovia cursing his name right now.”  
“Yeah, but HYDRA’s evil.”  
“The organisation? Sure. I get that. But the soldiers? It was just another paycheque.”  
“True, but they still fired a tank shell at you.”  
“All right, I’ll give you that.” You nod. “And when he fired lightening at me? What was that about?”  
“Thor fired lightening at you?”  
“Yup.”  
“Why?”  
“He thought I’d killed all those SHIELD soldiers, not the tank.”  
“So he had a reason then?” Darcy says defensively.  
“Sure, I guess. But my question is...” You sit back on your heels and look up at her. “At what point did I become ‘people’ and not just another statistic to him?”  
Darcy goes quiet.

“The Crown Prince scares the hell out of me.” You say, going back to work. “Just so you know. And he scares me more than the God-King.”  
“Why?”  
“Because the God-King held my life in his hands and decided not to squeeze. He weighed up the options and he made his choice. All by himself.” You finish the neck with a pat. “But who makes those choices for the Crown Prince? Because he certainly doesn’t make them for himself.”  
“Well Fury’s the big picture guy…”  
“And he’s totally trustworthy.” You go and get the tomatoes and the carrot from where you left them in the grass. “Tell me Darcy, when the Director realises that he has no choice but to give me back to the God-King or face the consequences, what do you think he’ll do?” You hand her the vegetables and start to make the holes in the face. “Coz I think he’ll try and call the God-King’s bluff. I think he’ll march me out and threaten to execute me.” You take the carrot from her hand and put it in place. You step back to get a better view and then move back to adjust it. “And I’m betting that The Prince will be the one wielding the hammer.” 

“You’re safe here. Thor would never hurt you.” Darcy says and you look at her unconvinced.  
“He might not beat me, and he might not get in my head and mess with my brain. But he strikes me as an all or nothing kind of guy. He thinks the God-King abused me right? That if I go back he’ll keep abusing me. And that’s fine, that’s the truth and I know it. I ain’t Stockholmed or any of that shit, if I could run, I’d run – as far and as fast as I could. But I can’t, so I get on as best I can, why worry about something you can’t fix?” You sigh and take the tomatoes. “But here’s the thing. If his choice comes down to giving me back to the God-King and all that badness, or killing me quickly and cleanly and giving me peace… Which one do you think he’d go for? And how much input do you think I’ll get in that decision?”

Darcy goes quiet while you finish the eyes. She watches you go back in and grab the hated jacket and bring it out to put around the snowman’s shoulders. She helps you secure it in place and then you both step back to look at your handy work.  
“You know what I think?” She says finally.  
“Yeah?” You ask.  
“I think if the snowman wants to run, they’re gonna need some feet.”  
“I think you’re right.”  
You both go to get some more snow to finish the job.

*

“So coffee?” Darcy asks as you both head back in to warm up again.  
“You got hot chocolate?” You ask.  
“And marshmallows.” Darcy winks. “The small pink and white kind. You want?”  
“Yeah.” You say eagerly. “Whipped cream?”  
“The works is coming up.” She announces and heads towards the kitchen.  
You grin stupidly after her.

Your attention is drawn to Jane sitting at her table, sighing. Darcy is busy assembling ‘the works’ so you wander over.  
“You okay?” You ask, peering over her shoulder.  
“What?” Jane looks up. “Oh, hey.”  
“Hey.”  
“You understand theoretical physics?” She asks.  
“Nope.”  
“Didn’t think so. Then no, you can’t, but thanks for asking.”  
The Tesseract murmurs quietly inside of you.  
“Can I?” You ask hesitantly. “Can I see anyway?”  
“Sure. I could do with a break.” Jane hands over the paper and turns to look at Darcy.  
“Any Java left?” She asks and Darcy nods.  
“Comin’ right up.”  
Jane gets up to stretch her legs and walks over the window, leaving you standing at the table. 

You look at the pieces of paper and squint at them. They make no sense to you, but the Tesseract starts to hum happily.  
“What does it mean?” You ask it and suddenly a stream of information floods between your eyes.  
“That doesn’t help.” You mutter, blinking in reaction.  
It growls in frustration.  
“Yeah well, I think it sucks to be fourteen, too.” You tell it.  
The Tesseract grumbles, but you can feel it thinking. Your connection to it is weird now. You’re still joined together, there’s no way for you not to be, but the collar has separated you out. The Tesseract is definitely in its own box and you in yours, but you can still communicate effectively. Like separate prison cells with a thin adjoining wall.  
“Keep it simple.” You tell it. “Like… is this right?” You lift two sheets up to the light with a long continuing set of math scrawled across them.  
The Tesseract looks at them, digests them, translates them and then starts laughing.  
“So where are they wrong?”  
The Tesseract pauses again. Another stream of information passes in front of your eyes, but this time it’s in equation form.  
“Wait, let me get a pen and some new paper.”  
The Tesseract waits patiently until you’re seated and ready and then begins again.

*

“Whatcha doing?”  
You look up in surprise as Darcy places the hot chocolate in front of you. You’d been so lost in concentration you hadn’t realised the kettle had boiled.  
The Tesseract growls in annoyance at the interruption.  
“Uhm… give me a minute…” You go back to finishing off the equation.  
“I didn’t know you could science.” Darcy says, sitting back and sipping her drink.  
“I can’t.” You say. “But the Tesseract can.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I’m… kinda…” You decide to take the plunge. “…interpreting physics told to me by some sentient blue energy sitting inside of me right now.” You reach the end of the paper and grab a fresh sheet. “It’s as weird as it sounds.”  
“Wait, you can communicate with the Tesseract?”  
“Yeah. Well not The Tesseract.” You gesture vaguely. “That’s still in New York. But I picked up a piece of it in the fortress in Sokovia to turn off the force-field there and well, it thinks it knows where Jane went wrong…”  
Darcy blinks at the information over-load.  
“How is that even possible?” She asks.  
“No idea. It’s a Thing.”  
“The list is getting longer and stranger.” Darcy goes and finds the list among the pile of papers and adds ‘can talk to the Tesseract’ in her round, curly handwriting.

“What are you two doing?” Jane wanders back up and takes her coffee off the table.  
“Tesseract physics apparently.” Darcy says.  
“What?” Jane picks up your first piece of paper and starts reading. She sips her coffee and her eyes slowly widen as she reads.  
“This is…” She turns the paper to check there’s nothing on the other side and then goes back to reading. “This is…”  
“Tesseract science.” You fill in for her.  
“How?” Jane sits on the table. “Wait, Thor said something about this. How you were some sort of gun or something? That Loki could use you to focus the Tesseract energy and attack people?”  
“Close, but no.” You continue to draw, your tongue stuck out in concentration. The equations keep coming and you dutifully sketch them out. It’s more like drawing a picture than writing, you have no idea what any of it means so you’re extra careful to get it right.

“The kid has a piece of the Tesseract inside of them.” Darcy picks up the narrative for you. “Or something.”  
“Right.” You consider how to explain it. “The Tesseract is kinda like, uhm, silly putty?”  
“Silly putty?” Jane asks.  
“Yeah. There’s one main swirly piece of it that’s big and blue and shiny and in the cube in New York… but if you have the right tools you can carve bits off and stuff them in boxes of their own.”  
“Like AC current from the main power plant charging a battery?” Jane says slowly.  
“Yeah, that’s probably a better way of explaining it.” You agree. “If the battery had, you know, its own mind and stuff.”  
“So Loki put a part of the Tesseract inside of you?” Jane asks horrified.  
“Uhm, no. I took the bit that was the force-field – you know in Sokovia? It decided it liked me and climbed inside.”  
“So it can do this to anyone?” She asks cautiously.  
“No.” You shake your head. “Just me.”  
“How?”  
You lift your palm. “Because of the Thing.”  
The Tesseract growls and you sigh and pick the pen up again.  
“Look I’m almost finished here, just give me a minute, yeah?”  
Darcy and Jane look at each other and shrug.  
“Okay, but don’t let your chocolate go cold.” Darcy says and you grin.  
“I promise.”

*

“Hmmm, kid?” Darcy says gently. You look up from your work blurry-eyed. Your neck hurts, like it’s been bent in the same position for a long time.  
“Yeah?” You ask rubbing at it absentmindedly.  
“You’ve been like that for over an hour. Time to take a break.”  
You glance around the room and realise your right hand really hurts. You open your fingers with difficulty and put the pen down. You’re a little confused as to what’s going on.  
The Tesseract grumbles at the interruption and you look with awe at the stack of papers by your side covered in numbers and letters you could never understand.

Then you realise something important.  
“I let the chocolate go cold.” You wail in horror.  
“It’s alright, here’s a new one.” Darcy puts the fresh drink down in front of you and reaches for the old mug. You pull it towards your chest to stop her.  
“Can’t I… Can’t I have both?” You ask plaintively and she frowns.  
“But it’s cold and gross.” She says.  
“Uhm, get me a spoon?” You ask and she shakes her head and grins.  
“Not much chocolate where you’ve been, huh?” She says and without another word goes to the kitchen and gets you spoon. She stands and watches you eat the cold chocolate first, spooning the hardened cream with every sign of enjoyment and chewing the sodden marshmallows happily.

“HYDRA doesn’t really go in for that sort of thing. And the God-King made me earn soap and shampoo, so chocolate was pretty low on the list. I had a few energy bars I picked up during the Battle, but I was rationing them…” You sigh with happiness as you get through the crust and to the cold, brown drink beneath. “And he only gave me ice cream if it was drugged.”  
“Drugged?” Darcy frowns in disapproval. “The bastard drugged you?”  
“Well it was magic really, not chemical. He’d cast a spell over it and then make me eat it.” You wave your hand over the cup a few times, wiggling your fingers of emphasis. “Except for the last time, then it wasn’t drugged, he was just tricking me to see what I’d do…”  
“What did you do?”  
“Refused to eat it. So he hurt me. A lot. I blacked out like twice.”  
“Shit.”  
“Yeah.” You look down. “That isn’t really true. I’m just trying to get your sympathy. He, he wanted to get in my head and I didn’t want to let him… That’s why he hurt me, not the ice cream.” You look at her. “Sorry.”  
She gives you a look like you’re stupid.

“Don’t be.” She says. “You already have my sympathy. And getting into your head? Sounds pervy to me.”  
You bite your lip and you smile.  
“It isn’t… Well not really… It’s more like him rooting around, looking for stuff while I just step back and let him in my house. I can hide stuff from him if I try really hard, but if he wants something specific and can’t find it and realises I’ve hidden it, things can go bad real quick.”  
“Sounds to me like that sums up your entire captivity with him.” Darcy says.  
“It wasn’t all bad, not all of it. Sometimes he hurt me to teach me stuff, things I wouldn’t have realised or worked out without a push from him. But yeah, sometimes it was just to hear me scream, especially if he’d just come back from the war front. Other times it was to get other people to do what he wanted. He used me to motivate them or to get them to bow to him. To control them through my pain, use their sympathy for me against them.” You finish the cold chocolate, lifting it high over your head to get to the last dregs. Then you pull up the hot one. “Other times he’d cook me food and we’d be like a family or something.”  
“Pretty messed up family.”  
“Yeah, well he can’t help that.” You scoop the first of the fresh marshmallows into your mouth and you smile in pleasure at the taste.  
Darcy cocks her head on to one side.

“What do you mean?” She asks after you’ve had a few more spoonfuls.  
“The Crown Prince ever talk about home?”  
“Yeah, Asgard, the Realm Eternal. Sounds like a paradise.”  
“Yeah if you’re big and blonde and first in line to the throne. If you’re weaker and younger and growing up in his shadow, things aren’t always so bright and cheery.”  
“But Loki would say that…”  
“When he was the equivalent of five years old, The Crown Prince stove his ribs in when the God-King got tired of the bullying and stood up to him.”  
“Seriously?”  
“Yup.” You look at her sideways. “And do you know mortals are banned from going there?”  
“Why?”  
“I don’t know, but they are. The God-King used to smuggle them in as a small defiance to his father.”  
“But Thor says that one day he and Jane will live there together…”  
You look at her, unconvinced.  
“Well, if this stuff here…” You point at the stack of papers. “Helps you establish a connection with Asgard, why don’t you ask the King there about it?”  
“Odin?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Maybe I will.” Darcy nods her head decisively, then seems to think twice. “Or maybe I’ll get Jane to do it.”  
You grin at her.

“Darcy, Child.” The Crown Prince calls as he walks into the room. “It’s time.”  
Jane is hurrying behind him and Filo is already sitting at the couch. You hadn’t known he was there and you wonder how much of your conversation he heard.  
“Come on, bring the chocolate.” Darcy gestures towards the couch. “It’s time to hear from our Lord and Master.”  
“Darcy!” Jane scolds her.  
“What?” Darcy says defiantly. “It’s true.”  
You slip off the chair and head towards the couch, sitting on the end next to Filo like last time, putting him between you and the Crown Prince. The television begins to static and flicker. A small green square appears in the centre and blinks on and off. Against the green in a white, square font are the words “Establishing Link-Up”.  
“To what?” You ask.  
“The Carrier.” Darcy says. “It’s our regular up-date from SHIELD.”

“So this is a satellite link-up?” You ask. “I would have thought the aliens would have put paid to that by now.”  
“The Chitauri mother ships aren’t designed to leave Earth’s atmosphere. They’re too bulky, they’d burn up.” Jane tells you, absentmindedly biting a finger nail while she waits for the transmission. “That’s why they needed Loki to open the Tesseract gateway. Even if they did have the means to travel the hundreds of thousands of light-years it would take to get here, they wouldn’t have been able to get at us.”  
“Maybe they could have bombed us from space.” You point out but she shakes her head.  
“They don’t use missiles as far as we can tell and the energy beams we’ve pulled from the few motherships we’ve brought down aren’t powerful enough to penetrate the atmosphere.” She shrugs. “Plus everything they build has an organic component somewhere and that just isn’t useful when it comes to re-entry.”  
“The inside of their ships are just icky.” Darcy shudders. “We saw some pictures…”

The Tesseract suddenly sits up inside you like an alert dog and less than a second later the up-link connects. The Directors face appears twice as large as life in front of you. You quietly hide your face behind a mouthful of hot chocolate.  
“I see you’re giving the kid some quality child time.” The Director says in opening and you grin sheepishly at him, your mouth smeared with cream. You wipe it off self-consciously.  
“How you doing?” He asks.  
“Good.” You glance at Jane and Darcy. “Keeping busy.”  
“We made a kick-ass snowman.” Darcy says.  
“And the Tesseract has a lot to say for itself.” The Crown Prince says. “The child has been writing equations for the past hour.” 

The Director looks at you and then at Jane.  
“That true?” He asks.  
“It all makes sense, at least as far as I’ve been able to read.” You realise that Jane has a few sheets by her side. She picks one up. “It looks as if the Tesseract can be contained in natural substances, certain types of metallic compound crystals, so we don’t need to know the HYDRA technology, we can just rig something up instead.”  
“What kind of crystals?”  
“Uhm…” Jane checks her notes. “Anatase seems to be the best. Deep blue stone, found widely in Europe, not common, pretty expensive, but easy enough to obtain.”  
“How much do you need?”  
“Well the specimens need to be pretty flawless. And I’d have to experiment with size and shape…”  
“Okay, we’ll get you a bag of them.” The Director agrees.  
“Thank you, Nick.” She says and you’re a little shocked by the familiarity between them.  
“Anything that gets Asgard here quicker.” The Director nods. 

He looks at Filo.  
“I see you’ve found your feet, yet again.” He says drily. “You’re harder to kill than a cockroach.”  
Filo smiles as if the Director has just given him a compliment.  
“People like me do no reach my fine age without being useful, Director.” He says, politely inclining his head.  
“Helpful my ass.”  
“He has been most forthcoming.” The Crown Prince interrupts. “About his role in HYDRA and his relationship with the child. If we require to send Loki a counter offer, this man is willing to try and broker a deal in person. He feels that Loki may well have friendly feelings towards him.”  
“Friendly is the wrong word.” Filo says. “We have a mutual, professional understanding.”  
“Do you now?” The Director sighs. “Why am I not surprised?”  
“Because you are very hard to surprise, Director?” Filo asks with a soft smile on his face.  
“You’d better believe it.”  
“Wait. What? Why do you need a counter offer?” You ask. “Isn’t it all worked out?”  
The Director sighs.

“We are not giving you back.” The Crown Prince says firmly.  
“But, but you have to…” You say.  
“Loki tortured you, kid. You told me so yourself.” Darcy says.  
“And the Tesseract in you is too useful to let go.” Jane says, lifting the papers.  
“And I will not let my brother use a child as a pawn in his schemes.” The Crown Prince says firmly.  
“No.” You say getting up. “No. You don’t understand. None of you understand…”  
“Then enlighten us.” The Director spreads his hands in question.  
“He needs me. I…” You pause looking around helplessly. “I can’t tell you why.”  
“Then we can’t help you.” The Director shrugs.  
“Please, Director, please you have to trust me…”  
“I don’t have to do shit. Look at you. You’re skinny, malnourished, half-crazy from torture, from having a part of an infinity stone eating away at you and from having a god in your head. You don’t even know who you are.”  
“I know who I am.” You say firmly. “I don’t need a name for that.”

“You remember when your birthday is?” The Director asks.  
“Of course.” You say, puzzled. “Why?”  
“You know what the date is today?”  
“No.” You shake your head. “I haven’t known the date since the Battle. What does it matter?”  
Darcy quietly passes you her phone. You stare at the date for a few long moments.  
“It was…” You say it quietly, your lip trembling. “It was my birthday four days ago.”  
“What we you doing four days ago?” The Director asks and you blink up at him. So much as happened you’re not entirely sure.  
“The hit.” You say finally. “The attack on the installation. To save Black Widow…” Was that only four days ago? It feels like forever. You look up at him. “You knew it was my birthday and you didn’t say anything? That’s why you were saying I was fifteen…”  
“Yup. Get the kid a cookie.”  
The truth slowly dawns.

“So that means you know who I am?”  
“Your name, your parent’s names, your home address, your school… You name it.” The Director points at his chest. “Spy.”  
“And you have all of Mr Starks’ information. Of course you have. All his employees and everything…”  
“Exactly.” The Director leans forward. “You want to know your name?”  
You can feel the tears in your eyes.  
“No.” You shake your head.  
“No?” The Director looks surprised, so does everyone else, except for Filo, who nods knowingly instead.  
“No.” You say again. You sit down heavily, the knife handle pressing hard where it sits on your waistband on your back. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not who I am anymore.”  
“And you say you ain’t crazy.” The Director shrugs.  
“I’m not.” You say suddenly angry. “I don’t need it anymore.”  
“Fine.” The Director shrugs. “You change your mind. You let me know.”  
“Okay.” You agree.

“So, battle plan.” The Director turns to the others. “Loki’s going to hit the nuclear outposts either tomorrow or the day after…” He pauses looking at you and Filo. “Let’s get them out of here.”  
Filo nods and gets up. You drain your hot chocolate and stand as well. The Crown Prince reaches out and takes you by the wrist.  
“First I require your weapon.” He says and you pale in fear at his touch.  
“My weapon?” You bluff weakly.  
“The knife at you back.”  
“I don’t…”  
“I have been a warrior for centuries child, I know when another carries a concealed weapon.” The Crown Prince says sternly and you cower away. His grip doesn’t waver.  
“I need it. I’m not going to use it. It just makes me feel safe.” You plead and he looks at you impassively. It’s so much like the God-King’s face when he’s really angry that you feel you bladder twitch in terror. You reach behind, pull out the knife and give it to him without any more comment. Both Jane and Darcy gasp in shock when they see how sharp it is.  
“You’ve been carrying that all day?” Darcy asks.  
“Since I came in to get the veggies for the snowman.” You admit.  
“You will not do this again.” The Crown Prince says sternly and you shiver in fear.  
“Yes, your Highness.”  
“My name is Thor, kindly use it.”  
“As you wish, Prince Thor.”  
He smiles, his expression softening.  
“Just Thor.”  
You nod.  
“Can I, can I go now?” 

Thor looks you up and down.  
“Carrying a concealed weapon is a grave offence, do you not think you should be punished?” He asks, still smiling like this is all one big joke and you pull at your wrist, almost weeping in fear.  
“Please, please.” You beg him.  
“Thor, they’re terrified.” Jane says quietly, but no one intervenes. Filo stands off to one side, helpless, angry and silent at how you are being treated. The Director watches with interest, seeing how it will play out.  
Thor stands, still gripping your wrist and you all smell the sharp tang of urine on the air. You start to weep from the shame of it as Thor’s eyes widen in realisation. He instantly lets you go and you drop to your knees in utter supplication.  
“I’m sorry.” You whimper. “I’m sorry.” You scrabble at his feet, pressing you forehead against his boot. “Please, please. I won’t do it again. I promise. Please.”  
“What has my brother done to you?” Thor asks in rage and you shiver at his feet.

“You’re an idiot.” Filo says in quiet anger. He walks up and kneels beside you. “Hush, now.” He whispers encouragingly. “Hush.” He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you up from the ground and you turn and cling to him, weeping helplessly.  
“You’re an Asgardian. In this child’s eyes you are as powerful, if not more so, than the one who kept them captive.” Filo chides him. “You fired lightening at them and almost attacked them with that pretty hammer of yours. You think an apology and a bedtime story makes up for that?” He grasps you tightly and helps you stand.  
“This little one has been weaponised, has been forced to kill, has seen the worst of what this world has to offer. You think they look on someone like you and see an ally? No, they see another potential abuser. They see another powerful being who has to be appeased at all costs. You judge them for having a knife? For wanting some defence against the night and the darkness? You threaten punishment?”

“It was a joke. I was going to send them to bed…” Thor says in quiet shame. “I did not realise.”  
“You should have realised, Crown Prince of Asgard!” Filo snarls. “You’re going to be king of a vast and terrible empire one day and you can’t even judge the reaction of a child?”  
“I’m sorry.” Thor reaches out to you and you moan in fear. “I… What can I do to show I meant no harm?”  
You bury your head in Filo’s shoulder and pull him so he stands between you and the blonde giant.  
“A clean pair of clothes would be a good start. A shower, with good soap and shampoo, as this was a reward during their captivity. A warm bed in a room of their own, with a nightlight or a torch and maybe some vodka.”  
“Vodka?” Jane wrinkles her nose.  
“After everything this child has been forced to do, you question their right to a little alcohol?” Filo shakes his head. “Americans!” 

“We have vodka.” Darcy offers up and shrugs when Jane glares at her. “We do, peach schnapps. There’s just a small bit left in the bottle, maybe two or three shots. They can’t get drunk off that.”  
“I’d…” You swallow noisily. “I’d like that.”  
“Very well.” Thor says gravely and Darcy goes off to get the bottle and a glass.  
“They’re fifteen!” Jane protests.  
“You ever killed anyone, Miss Foster?” The Director asks.  
“No.”  
“This kid has a body count.” He turns to you. “How many died when you were getting out of the fortress?”  
“I don’t know twenty, thirty people maybe?” You say, ashamed when you see Jane’s reaction. “But it wasn’t me, it was the Tesseract... And, and… They were going to kill me... If I wanted to get out, I didn’t have a choice…”  
“So give the kid the alcohol.” The Director says firmly.

Darcy comes back with the bottle and hands it to Filo.  
“I will make sure the child is cleaned and makes its way safely to bed. Then I shall wait in my room for further instruction.” Filo tells them. “Come and find me once your strategy meeting is at an end.”  
“There are pyjamas on their bed.” Darcy says. “I’ll get them and I’ll sort out some clothes for tomorrow.”  
“Thank you, Miss Darcy.” Filo says.  
He leads you off towards the bathroom.

*

You shower alone and use the bar of thick, creamy soap and shampoo that claims to smell like orchids and diamonds. It smells good for sure, though you’re not overly clear of what diamonds should smell like. Or orchids for that matter as you’ve never smelt one in your life. You wash your hair three times before you’ve calmed down enough to step outside, wrapped in a white fluffy towel. Filo has your pyjamas by then. They’re blue flannelling and have rainbows on them. You both laugh at how stupid they look, but you put them on happily. They’re soft and clean and warm.  
They’ll do.

Your bedroom is off to one side, at the end of a long corridor. You bag is in there and you pull out your boat to check it’s still in one piece.  
“The yacht varnish I managed to scrounge for you has worked well.” Filo tells you as you turn it over and over in your hands.  
“Not a scratch.” You breathe happily.  
“There’s a small lake nearby. We could break the ice and sail it together tomorrow afternoon, if you’d like.” Filo offers and you smile at him in gratitude.  
“That would be great. I’d love to see how it moves on real, open water.”  
Filo watches your new found enthusiasm and smiles warmly.

“He means well. He just doesn’t understand the frailties of being mortal.” He says causally and you nod.  
“I know. I didn’t mean to wet myself, but then I guess you never do, do you?”  
Filo laughs softly.  
“It has happened on occasion to me as well. Fear, true bowel clenching fear, it is the great leveller. In this day and age not many feel it in the course of their life. It is a pity that you have to experience it so young.”  
“Or experience it at all.” You continue turning the boat, but you’re not really looking at it anymore. “A white kid in a first world country, in a wealthy city. The worst I should have suffered was poverty and we had Mr Stark to stop that happening.” You run your hand over the wooden, varnished rotor blades, feeling their bevelled edges. “I was one of the lucky ones.”  
“You still are.”  
“I know. After everything I’ve been through, I know.” You grin and give a small weeping hiccup at the same time. Filo grips you shoulder. 

“It’s not been nice.” You say, meeting his gaze. “But I’d never go back to who I was. Even knowing what I do now, I’d still make the same choice.” You raise your palm. “I’d still agree to this.”  
“No regrets?” Filo asks, smiling.  
“Plenty.” You laugh. “But if I die tomorrow I know I gave it my best. I started out with nothing to offer and I have to admit that my hand is still pretty darn weak, but at least I have a seat at the table now. At least my life has meaning in all this chaos.” You look back at the boat. “I mean I’d have never made this. In my old life I’d have drifted from one dead end job to the other, getting by, but not much else. I never wanted to study or go to college or any of that.” You sigh. “And I owe him that much. The God-King fucked me up, but he got me to engage with the world and to use my brain. He taught me that I wasn’t such a loser after all, like everyone at school always told me. So I owe him that, at least.”  
Filo nods.  
“If you need me I’m in the room opposite. Knock any time you need.”  
“I will. Thanks, Filo.”  
“It’s my job to care for you and make sure you get what you need.” He says gravely. “I take my assignments seriously.”  
“Thanks for not shooting me in the head.” You say flippantly.  
“That was never my assignment. No matter what HYDRA thought. Not after meeting you.”  
He puts the vodka on the side and the glass beside it.  
“Sleep well.”  
“You too.”

When you’re alone, you pour yourself a glass of the peach schnapps and swirl it lazily before taking a sip. It’s no where near as strong as the stuff at the fortress, but it tastes good and helps calm your nerves. There’s an alarm clock on the bedside table and you set it for the morning before climbing into bed. You lift your pillow to plump it and something small and white flutters to the floor. You pick up the piece of paper and your insides suddenly go cold. You’d know this writing anywhere – slightly angular, but neat and written with a steady, academic hand. The writing of the God-King.  
“Meet with me at midnight at the grove by the cliff.” You whisper to yourself. “Do not be late.”  
It’s definitely from him. How did he get to Norway? Or maybe it’s a Chitauri raiding group, waiting to bundle you off home. Or maybe one of the mercenary groups he employs. They’d be more discrete, discovering your room and leaving you a note.  
Lucky the Crown Pr… Uhm, Thor… Didn’t decide to tuck you in again tonight.  
You turn it over and see a small, hand drawn map on the other side. It isn’t to scale, but from the walk down the path this morning you know where to go. The grove is obvious, alone in the snow with tall evergreens making a large close knit circle by the Cliffside. It will take about fifteen minutes to get there. 

You look at the clock. It’s only seven. Sent to bed without any supper. You down the shot of vodka, reset the clock for eleven thirty and curl up under the blankets. You’re tired and emotionally worn down by your encounter with Thor, so you’re soon drifting.  
But you’re also excited and a little scared.  
It’s time to get back in the game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strangely this chapter had more feels for me than most of the others. I kept having to walk away from the keyboard after writing a scene and then returning a few hours later. Somehow talking about some of this stuff was worse than when it *actually* happened... Go figure.
> 
> Anatase looks like this: http://www.minersoc.org/photo.php?id=15  
> As you can see, it's the perfect gem for the story.  
> I spent a while researching it, so you're welcome. ;)
> 
> The chapters are still coming, don't give up on me now, people.  
> I love you all, thank you for reading.


	37. The Use of A Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re late.” You turn at the God-King’s voice. He’s wearing his green and black, calf-length coat, knee high boots and a dark green cashmere tunic with leather trousers. His gold necklace flashes in the moonlight. He’s leaning casually against one of the trees, watching you intently.  
> “I’m not late.” You tell him, swallowing back your fear. “You are.”  
> “A Prince is never late.” He tells you, looking you up and down with an arrogant distain.  
> “Hey, this was your date.” You lift the piece of paper. “I was fifteen minutes early.”  
> He smiles as he walks out of the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long. Christmas has been both weird and busy for me. 
> 
> I've had three assignments due in the last ten days and my internet died over the holidays, my wifi box is now nothing but sellotape and running on hopeful dreams. At some point an engineer might even come out to fix the problem... 
> 
> On the plus side I've written three chapters over the holiday period that I will put up over the next few days as time for editing allows and here's a decently long one to keep you going for now. This story is still being written, it is still going on - I am still squirreling away in the background working on it. 
> 
> Sorry again for the long wait, but I hope you all had a good christmas and a fantastic new year.

*

The snow crunches underfoot, hard and brittle from the night’s frost. You’re wearing your boots and your HYDRAish uniform, staring up at the crisp stars as you make your way to the grove. Your bedroom window was locked, but the kitchen one had been left on the latch and no one had thought to lock your bedroom door, so escape had been easy.  
The constellations are different in Norway, not by much, but enough to tell you that you’re thousands of miles away from Sokovia. There’s no wind and the silence is heavy, you can hear the sea moving at the base of the cliffs as you get closer, but the waves are slow and languid in the still night air.  
You reach the grove and you pause outside. You shake your head at your nervousness and you walk in and wait exactly in the centre.

You wait for ages, turning and wondering. Nervous and afraid as you hear the waves hit on the cliffs far down on the rocks below. You’re about ten feet away from the cliff edge, some of the trees are rooted right into the rock. What if he’s decided to kill you? What if he’s hired someone to push you off the edge?  
“You’re late.” You turn at the God-King’s voice. He’s wearing his green and black, calf-length coat, knee high boots and a dark green cashmere tunic with leather trousers. His gold necklace flashes in the moonlight. He’s leaning casually against one of the trees, watching you intently.  
“I’m not late.” You tell him, swallowing back your fear. “You are.”  
“A Prince is never late.” He tells you, looking you up and down with an arrogant distain.  
“Hey, this was your date.” You lift the piece of paper. “I was fifteen minutes early.”  
He smiles as he walks out of the shadows.  
“You can’t feel me at all, can you?” He asks and you touch your collar.  
“No.” You say. “Are you real?”  
“I’m real.” He says nodding sharply. “I’m here.”  
The God-King gives you a twisted smile.  
“It’s good to see you, child.”

He opens his arms in greeting and you can’t resist. You run the last few steps and throw yourself against him. You wrap your arms around his solid waist, sliding your hands under his coat and his fingers tangle in your hair. You give a happy, contented sigh.  
“How, how did you get here?” You ask. “No… don’t bother… Magic, right?”  
“Precisely.” He answers.  
You hug him tightly. He smells of leather and expensive cologne and of home – so much of home. You miss New York so much, it hurts.  
“But why not sooner? Why now?” You ask him.  
“Because teleportation takes a lot of effort and it wasn’t worth my while until now.”  
“Teleportation?” You ask in awe.  
“Well, not quite, but a good enough explanation for our needs.” He continues to stroke your hair, his fingers strong and sure. “More like travelling secret pathways and you weren’t near an entrance until now.”  
“Can you show me how?” You ask eagerly.  
“Absolutely not.” But he smiles as he chides you. “It’s far too dangerous.”  
“Oh.” You deflate a little, think about it and brighten again. “At least I get to travel through one.”  
You pull back to look up at him and you see his expression.  
“You’ve not come to take me home, have you?” You ask, your voice flat.  
“No. I have not.” He agrees and your lip quivers.

“Why not?” You demand, stamping your foot in rage. You try to pull away but he holds you steady. He shakes his head and sighs.  
“I have my reasons.”  
“Do you? Because if you want me to keep playing this game of yours, I need, I need… Something, damn it.” You snarl at him, your voice filled with your frustration and the God-King nods.  
“Because the trade has to go ahead. SHIELD needs some of the things I have, but I can’t be seen to give them willingly.”  
You look down and try to shrug out of his grip. He lets you go with reluctance and you walk away towards the cliffs.

“Howard’s Child is giving you grief, huh?”  
“Always meddling.” The God-King agrees.  
“Even now?”  
“Right now he’s resting. He’s far more interested in the main event for tomorrow.”  
“The nukes.” You say and the God-King smiles.  
“It’s going to be fun.”  
“It’s a trap.” You tell him and the God-King’s smile widens.  
“Yes it is.” He agrees. “But not how they think.”  
You sigh and look down at the waves.  
“You’re really here? This isn’t a dream?”  
“I’m really here.” The God-King walks up behind you. “I have things I need to do for you, that can only be accomplished in person.”  
“You not going to throw me off the cliff?”  
“No, I’m not.” The God-King shakes his head. “This fixation you have really isn’t healthy.”  
“Knowing you isn’t healthy.” You sigh and press your head back against his stomach. “Everyone here thinks I’m crazy.”  
“Everyone thinks I’m mad, as well.” The God-King shrugs. “You get used to it.”  
“Yeah, I guess.”

You touch his stomach thoughtfully.  
“You’re really cold.” You say.  
“So are you.”  
“This part of the deal? I mean it has to be, right?”  
“I don’t feel the cold either.” The God-King agrees.  
“An Asgardian thing?” You ask. “Thor seems pretty resistant, too.”  
“Asgardians are tough to kill.” The God-King smiles and catches your hand. His fingers are freezing.  
“So this…” You indicate your palm. “…Means I take on some of your attributes?”  
“It appears so.” He rubs his thumb against the circle and you shudder as you feel the sensation run through your wiring. It’s everywhere now, right down to mid-thigh.  
“Is Laura the same?” You ask, watching his thumb move with a strange fixation. You can almost feel the way the wiring responds to the rhythm of his touch. Like different wire groups connect in different places on the circle.  
“No she’s still very mortal, but then her wiring isn’t as advanced as yours is. And your Gift bonds us more tightly together.”  
“Magic-users Anonymous?” You joke looking back up at him and he stops playing with your circle, frowning a little.  
“Another reference I have to look up?” He asks.  
“It’s not that important, but look up AA if you need to.”  
“Very well.” He strokes your hair and you close your eyes in pleasure. It’s a relief to be with him, to be with someone you know so well, you can read his moods and take your cues from them. Right now, he’s amused and has no intention to harm you, you’re safe with him. You know exactly how far you can push him without making him mad and the knowledge calms you down. For the first time in an age, you can feel yourself relaxing. 

“Shit!” A female voice shouts out and there’s a buzzing noise and a smell of charge in the air.

The God-King reaches out as if on instinct and catches the taser wires neatly before they touch him. He looks down at them as if confused for a second and then he tugs hard and pulls the taser from Darcy’s fingers. He gives her a fierce look that freezes her instantly to the spot and turns towards her, a knife appearing in his hand with a small shimmer of gold.  
“No.” You grab his arm and he turns back to you, his expression questioning. “She’s alone.” You explain. “She must have seen me leave and followed me.”  
“You did not take the right precautions?” He asks sharply and you look down in contrition.  
“I tried, but…” You sigh. “I don’t know the layout well yet. And the front door was locked and the emergency exit was alarmed. I found an open window, but it took me a while… I figured if someone saw me, they would have called out and I’d could have talked my way around them. Everything’s really lax back there. I mean, they didn’t even lock me in my room.”  
“How do you know she’s alone?”  
“You hear any lightening?” You ask and the God-King pauses, glancing up at the sky. He nods and the dagger disappears. He flexes his fingers.  
“You may approach.” He says politely, but Darcy doesn’t move. “Ah, of course.” He starts to move forward, a predatory smile dancing on his face. “You are too afraid of me.”  
Darcy shivers, but not from the cold. She’s completely rooted to the spot.  
“Be kind.” You call after him. “Please.”  
The God-King raises his hand to show that he has heard you.

He circles Darcy thoughtfully as she stands there, gripping at her woollen sleeves in terror.  
“Not your classical beauty, but pretty, very pretty.” The God-King says as he moves around behind her. “You have a certain… Something…”  
He pulls off her knitted pom-pom hat and runs his fingers through her dark hair. He smells the knitwear absently as he strokes her. “A cheap perfume, but we can’t have everything.” He moves in close, almost touching her with his body. “But I can understand what he sees in you.”  
“Wait.” Darcy says. “You think… You think I’m Jane?”  
You smile at the fact that even when her body is frozen with fear, Darcy can still talk. You also find the look of confusion on the God-King’s face a memory well worth squirrelling away for later. The Darcy effect even works on Asgardians, it seems. 

“You’re not Jane?” The God-King asks eventually.  
“No.”  
“Then who are you?”  
“Darcy. Intern.”  
“Intern?”  
“Assistant, extra credit. I’m not a physicist.”  
The God-King strokes her neck and she shivers.  
“You’re so cold…”  
“And you’re so warm and sweet and mortal.” He runs his fingers across her cheek, seizing the initiative again. “You shouldn’t be out on such a dark night in the snow. You might catch your death… Or your death might catch you.” He grins.  
“I was getting milk and I saw the kid go out the window. I thought they just needed some space… I didn’t know... I didn’t tell anyone.”  
“Will you tell anyone?”  
Darcy looks at you, you shake your head.  
“No.” She says.  
“I don’t believe you.” He leans forward and kisses her neck. 

“Majesty.” You say quietly. “Please, be kind. She’s not a threat. Please.”  
“She’s an enemy.” The God-King looks at you with disappointment and Darcy whimpers.  
“No, she’s just works for the woman your brother fell for.”  
“Then why didn’t she quit?”  
“Are you kidding me!” Darcy blurts out. “This is science, real science and real aliens and Princes and space and, and, Tesseracts! Who’d leave with all that going on?”  
“A woman who doesn’t want to die screaming when the Prince’s brother catches her snooping in the dark?”  
“I wasn’t snooping!” Darcy snaps and somehow gets her feet back under control. She tries to move away, but the God-King catches her shoulders and pins her in place. She looks at him, her expression part fear, part annoyance. “It took me longer to get out the house, I had to dress warm and then I had to find the keys. Then I had to find the foot prints and I had to decide whether to go out or not… I didn’t know if I would be intruding.”  
“Well you are.” The God-King’s eyes trail across her body.  
“I’m sorry. I’ll leave. I won’t tell anyone I swear! Scout’s honour!”  
“You were a scout?”  
“Erm, no… Erm, pinky swear?” She pulls off her left mitten and lifts her hand with her little finger out. The God-King chuckles.  
“I think I’m going to rape and murder you now. If it’s all the same to you.” 

Darcy tries to run, tries to fight him off, but the God-King gestures and she falls into the snow clutching at her throat.  
“No running.” He tells her casually. “No screaming.” He kneels down beside her, running his fingers over her back. “No begging… Unfortunately.”  
He doesn’t look up as you walk over.  
“Perhaps you should go for a stroll, child. I don’t want you to have nightmares.” He says.  
“I already have nightmares. And this is stupid.”  
“Child…”  
“You’re not stupid.”  
The God-King looks up at you sharply.  
“And you have a better idea? This will be a message, a good message to my brother.”  
“No. This will be a crap message to send to your brother. He doesn’t need to be pissed off at you any more than he already is.”  
“He needs to know he isn’t safe from me, that he can’t protect the things he loves.” He caresses Darcy’s waist under her jumper and she shivers, her eyes wide with terror.  
“This will make him unpredictable at a time when you need to know exactly where he is and what he’s doing.” You put your hand on his shoulder, hoping the contact will covey how strongly you feel. His eyes narrow at your touch.  
“I will be able to deal with him.” He tells you calmly as he shrugs your hand away.  
“She helpless, she’s no damn threat!” You curl your hands into frustrated fists.  
“She made her choices.”  
“Majesty!” You shout at him in exasperation.  
“Why must you do this? Why must you keep pretending to have a conscience?” He gets to his feet and towers over you, but you stand your ground.  
“I’m not asking you to have a conscience. I’m asking you to think!” You snarl back.

The God-King grabs you and lifts you.  
“You want to watch? Fine.” He starts to carry you across the grove. You twist in his grasp, but he holds you firmly.  
“She’s more use alive, a lot more use.” You tell him.  
“Hush now.”  
“She majored in political science! She knows all about this world you’re trying to conquer! All the different people and places, all the different mind-sets, all the cultural differences. Her knowledge is an asset.” You shout as he carries you to the other side of the trees, where you can watch clearly. He puts you down to work your collar free and yanks your shirt up to get a good grip of the cloth. 

“She’s a great assistant! She’d work for you, no problems. She’ll be able to order you affairs, keep Mr Selvig and Mr Stark on target. She knows how to get scientists what they need to keep working. She’ll be helpful to you.”  
The God-King lifts you and hangs you from a low tree branch by the back of your shirt so you’re hanging a foot or so off the ground.  
“She’d make a great hostage!”  
The God-King pulls back and looks at you.  
“Child…”  
“Think about it! Thor cares about her!”  
“That’s the idea.”  
“But think how much better it would be if you take her with you? If you leave an illusion of her here? And then…” You lick your lips. “And then… When Filo comes to broker a new deal? You give him the tape. The tape of Darcy working for you… And the illusion fades while Thor and Jane watch…”  
The God-King smiles darkly. 

He gestures and Darcy cries out as her throat opens again. You can hear her gasping and weeping in the dirt.  
“You’ve got a twisted mind, child.” He says in mock disapproval.  
“I learned from the best.” You tell him. “And that’s three – three solid reasons to keep her alive. No emotion, no conscience.”  
He turns and looks at Darcy. She’s trying to get up and failing, her tears half frozen on her cheeks.  
His expression as he watches her struggle and weep is one of pity.  
“You’re right. She’s not threat at all is she?”  
“Not to you, not in that way.” You say and he looks at you questioningly. “You can make her into a threat. If you get her on side. If you use her brain. She’s clever, real clever and disarming. She’s brilliant at making you tell her everything.”  
“What did you tell her?” The God-King asks, smiling knowingly and you look away.  
“Enough.” You admit. “More than most at a first meeting.” 

The God-King leaves you hanging as he walks over to his new captive. Darcy raises her arm in a desperate defence against him.  
“Now, now. That’s enough of that.” He chides her. “There’s nothing to fear.” He takes her arm carefully and lifts it gently away. “The child has made your case. I have decided to spare you.”  
“Please, please… Please, don’t hurt me…” She begs him and he sighs.  
“At little slow on the up take, aren’t we, my dear?” He asks and lifts her onto her feet. She stumbles, still clumsy with terror and he holds her while she shivers against him.  
“You’re so cold.”  
“I’ll warm you up.” He strokes her hair. He gestures and Darcy stops shivering. Her skin grows pinker, warmer. She looks down at her hands.  
“How?” She asks.  
“Magic.” He tells her. “Always, magic.”  
“Not science?”  
“No, but you are young, you are credulous. You will learn the difference eventually.” He shrugs.  
She looks up at him.  
“How old are you?” She asks.  
“Over a thousand years, by your estimation.”  
“Wow.” She says guilelessly and the God-King smiles.  
“I like her.” He says.  
“I told you.”  
“You did.” He nods. “I’ll keep her. She’ll be safe. I give you my word as your God and your King.”  
“Thank you.”  
He looks up at you, the smile still playing on his lips.  
“You always know how to entertain me.” 

“So, what did you want to see me for?” You ask and he smiles.  
“Two things.” He leads Darcy forward and places her against the tree next to yours.  
“Stay there, sweet one.” He tells her and she nods. Her breathing is still irregular and heavy, but she seems much calmer. She’s watching the God-King with a kind of uncertain awe.  
“Two things to give you.” He says, his tone curt as he gets down to business. He pulls out a small sliver of clear plastic. He twists the top and it lights up.  
“A Stark-pad?” You ask.  
“A small one. Specially made by Stark himself.” The God-King shows you how it works, the controls are really simple. “It’s a camera. For Filo.” He turns it off and slips it into your pocket. “For Jane’s research.”  
“You’re stealing her research?” Darcy says in alarm.  
“Wouldn’t you?” The God-King asks.  
“Of course, but… They’ll suspect Filo.”  
“And Filo knows it. He won’t let me down.” The God-King shrugs. “He’s well trained and he has no where else to go but into my service. He’ll do a good job.” 

“And the other thing?” You ask.  
The God-King reaches into his coat and pulls out a flat stone, like a large pebble. There’s a rune carved into it. It hurts to look at in the same way the old one on the desk did.  
“A rune of containment, to go with the rune of control you already know. Using both of them together you’ll be able to keep the Tesseract at bay and tell it what to do. It wouldn’t work with the full Infinity Stone, but the small sliver in your mind will not be able to resist. Once you master this rune, you will be able to overwhelm it.”  
“It took me over a month to learn the first one…” You protest.  
“The first one is always the hardest. The test, to see if you are strong enough to learn.” He strokes your cheek lovingly. “Some of the most Gifted people just don’t have the capacity for formal magic. You have to prove your ability.” He kisses your forehead. “And you did. Admirably.” He smiles with pride. “You are such a clever child.”  
“Take me home. Please.”  
“Soon, little one. Soon.” And he slips the stone into your other pocket.

“Now.” He reaches for the collar. You flinch back. “Easy child, easy. There is no need to panic. This will not hurt at all.”  
His hands run over the runes, humming and clicking his tongue as the collar responds to his touch. You can feel his focus, like last time with the manacles, but he doesn’t have to draw on so much power in person. And his work is far more precise, far more delicate. If he accidently turned his strength on you this time, you would be able to withstand it and be able to beg him to stop.  
“You know how to work it?” Darcy asks in surprise and the God-King glances at her in good humour.  
“Of course I do. But if the collar was on me, I wouldn’t be able to any of this. I would be completely helpless, at my family’s mercy.” He glances at you and then goes back to his task. “But while it’s on the child, working to keep their power in check, I have nothing to worry about.”  
“So, getting Thor to use it on your child? This was part of your plan?”  
“Well, it helps, doesn’t it?” The God-King smiles. “Never waste an advantage, my dear.”  
You feel it when he releases the binding around your mind and you give a small sigh of relief.

“Now, show me the last twenty-four hours of your memory.” He presses his fingers to your temple and you let him in without a fight. When he asks, you give him the memories without hesitation. In return he places a few teaching pointers for the rune he’s just given you into your mind. They’re tied up little packages, ready to be opened in your own time.  
“Thor made you wet yourself?” The God-King sighs. “He’s such a buffoon.”  
“I thought he was going to beat me.” You say softly. “Or worse.”  
The God-King looks at you sadly.  
“He won’t beat you. But you’re right, he might be roped into executing you. I’ll be ready, just in case that happens.”  
“Okay.” 

“Now, let’s sort this out properly.” And the God-King starts playing with the collar again. You watch his expression change to one of deep concentration as he re-programmes the parameters.  
“These things are always so complicated.” He mutters. “And of course they’ve tried to put in fail-safes… Pointless, I know them all, but having to work around them is just frustratingly time consuming.”  
“What are you doing?”  
“Giving you full control, but containing the Tesseract. So you can practice on it without risk.”  
The Tesseract screams inside of you. It shifts, whimpering, begging and pleading. The God-King can feel it, you can tell. He blinks once or twice and shakes his head.  
“Such a dangerous little beast.” He mutters. “I should never have let it go inside of you.”  
“Well you did.”  
“Yes, I did.” You God-King glances up, smiling. “And you adapted, as I knew you would.”  
“Another step up the steep learning curve.” You say in a disapproving voice.  
“A shallow learning curve is worse than useless. It makes one complacent. This way I keep you on your toes.”  
You fume at his light tone of voice.

“It almost consumed me. If it hadn’t been for Thor…” You protest, but are silenced by the God-King’s warning look. Then he frowns.  
“You call him Thor?”  
“He asked me to…”  
The God-King shakes his head.  
“Of course he did.” He sighs. “And it didn’t consume you because I had everything in place. If you hadn’t tried to escape…”  
“If you’d made me believe you weren’t going to leave me to rot in a cell in the Carrier…”  
He looks at you sharply and you fall silent. You know you’ve crossed the line, but you remain defiant. You narrow your eyes, look him straight in the eye and wait for the pain to start. 

Darcy starts laughing, breaking the tension as the God-King looks at her in confusion.  
“You two!” She says grinning. “If I hadn’t been convinced that the kid needs to go back, I am now. You two are made for each other.”  
The God-King frowns.  
“What?” He asks.  
“You treat them like the kid you never had. You’re like a hardcore version of Mr frikkin’ Miyagi.”  
The God-King looks even more baffled.  
“The Karate kid.” You supply the reference for him. “It’s a film from the eighties, but you’d probably hate it.”  
“Don’t tell me this one’s like Tony…” The God-King rolls his eyes.  
“Hey, she’ll be worth it. Trust me.” You tell him and he pauses to consider.  
“Very well.” He agrees reluctantly. “She might even help me understand the annoying bastard.”  
“That’s the spirit.” You say encouragingly and the God-King shakes his head as he finishes his work.  
“Mortals.” He mutters darkly. 

“So.” He says as his fingers finally stop running over the runes on your collar. “Here are your instructions.”  
“I’m listening.”  
“You will give Miss Foster the Tesseract inside of you to aid in her research.”  
“I will?”  
“Yes.”  
“Why the change? I thought you weren’t going to give it away.”  
The God-King sighs.  
“These are your orders, child. This is not a question and answer session.” He says with annoyance. “Just do as you are told.”  
“Okay.” You nod. “I can do that.”  
“Good.” He says bluntly. “And I want you to conjure a link between my father and my brother.”  
“I thought you didn’t….” Your voice wavers under his stern gaze. “Okay… But how will I do that?”  
“Once you have control of the Tesseract, you will know how, it will show you.” He touches the circle on you palm for emphasis. “You have a great deal of potential and you need to learn how to tap into it.”  
“Can’t you just show me?” You ask. “It would make all this easier.”  
“Unfortunately not. A lot of magic has to be experienced, not taught. As your tutor I can make your lessons safer for you to learn, but I can only guide your way.” He taps your temple. “Magic is an individual’s interpretation of the world around them. Working out how to focus intent and channel magic is just as important as the magic itself. It is as unique as the practitioner.”  
“Sounds complicated.” You bite your bottom lip uncertainly.  
“If it were easy, everyone would do it.” He smiles at you. “The Gift itself is not enough. Magic users must be tough, self-sufficient and imaginative. If things go wrong, a split second adaptive decision can be the difference between burnt fingers and death my immolation.”  
“Ouch.” Darcy frowns. “Are you sure this is the best way? I mean it sounds pretty all or nothing.”  
The God-King looks down at her.

“You’re questioning my methods?” He asks coldly. “I didn’t know you were well versed in Asgardian Magical Theory. Perhaps you’d like to take over?”  
“Uhm…” Darcy twists the hem of her sleeve. “But immolation? That’s pretty heavy for a fifteen year old kid. I mean, should you even be risking that kind of thing yet in such an early study session?” She glances at you. “If they’ve only been learning since the Battle for New York, then they’re barely out of their first semester and first semesters are all about making friends and getting drunk… You know, getting used to the idea of what you’re studying…”  
“I believe the child has met plenty of new friends over the course of this learning period. And as for getting drunk…”  
“I don’t get drunk!” You protest.  
“You don’t approve either, huh?” Darcy says to him.  
“Alcohol has no place in learning.” The God-King says sternly and Darcy grins.  
“Well, maybe in higher education.” She says.  
“No, never. Especially with the forces this young one is learning to contain.”  
“I don’t get drunk.” You repeat stubbornly.  
“I will take you for your word on this, but if I ever find out you’ve been lying…” The God-King glares at you and you shrug.  
“Sure, kill me. From what I’ve heard it’d be kinder than the hangover.”  
The God-King sighs.  
“You can be quite infuriating…” He says in annoyance.  
“But I always do what I’m told.” You say in your defence and he smiles.  
“Yes, you always do.” He agrees stroking your hair. “For all your bluster, you are a good little pet.”  
He kisses your forehead and Darcy looks extremely uncomfortable. 

“Is that everything?” You ask and the God-King nods.  
“I look forward to hearing your meeting with my father.” He says with a smile. “I think it will show you your options with a new sense of clarity.”  
“What do you mean by that?” Darcy asks but the God-King ignores her.  
“What **do** you mean by that?” You ask quietly.  
“It will be a revelation to my brother as well. Let’s just say that if my father agrees to impart any of his wisdom towards your condition… Well, my brother will be more likely to give you back to me.” “Wait.” Darcy says. “You’re not taking the kid back with you?”  
“No. The time isn’t right.”  
“This is pretty damn cruel.” Darcy objects and the God-King raises his hand to strike her, but stops himself at the last minute, gritting his teeth with the effort of self-control. Darcy sees his intent and goes deathly quiet.  
“The first thing you should learn is that I am not my brother. I do not have his unending, puppy-like patience for pretty women.” He says quietly. “I ask you not to provoke me further.”  
“Sure.” Darcy whispers.  
“You promised you wouldn’t hurt her. You gave you word…” You say softly and the God-King nods.  
“I did. I will do my best.” He looks at Darcy. “But she will learn to guard her tongue when questioning me.”  
Darcy swallows hard and nods.  
“Deal.” She squeaks out. 

The God-King takes her arm, not unkindly, and walks her back to the centre of the clearing. He looks her up and down critically and then starts to gesture. Within minutes a perfect copy of Darcy stands beside her.  
“A final instruction for you, child.” The God-King says. “You will keep this illusion’s integrity intact until I am ready to reveal my deception.”  
“Then make her look sick. Like flu sick. I’ll make sure I’m the one who delivers her soup in bed.”  
The God-King gestures again and the illusion starts to snuffle. It coughs loudly putting its hand to its mouth and its skin looks pale and drawn from lack of sleep.  
“Better?”  
“Yes.” You agree but Darcy shakes her head.  
“I don’t cough like that.”  
“Then show me how you do cough.” The God-King says and Darcy gives him a demonstration, doubling over. He frowns at her. “Are you sure? That seems… Over dramatic…”  
“You kidding? I hate being ill. The more you milk it the more time off you get.”  
The God-King narrows his eyes.  
“I think I will stick with the original. If it’s all the same to you. It feels too much like you are trying to leave a message behind for the others to pick up.”  
“Sure, diss me. But it’s the truth. You don’t play up the illness and everyone, Jane especially will suspect.”  
“I’ll play it up in different ways then. But that cough. Just no.”  
“Fine.” Darcy sighs. “It was worth a shot.”  
And the God-King strikes her. 

He hits her so hard he takes her clean off her feet.  
“Majesty!” You scream from where you’re hanging, helpless to intervene. The God-King looks at you with utter distain and you fall silent, shivering with fear. He straightens his coat and looks down at the shocked woman at his feet.  
“Do get up, my dear. You’re littering the place.” He tells her briskly. Darcy gets up shakily, clutching the bright red mark on her cheek where the blow connected. The God-King takes a step forward and smoothly lifts her off the ground. Darcy screams in terror.  
“Understand this.” He says to her, his voice deathly calm. “I could crush every bone in your pretty little body to dust with my bare hands.” He strides towards the cliff, stopping a few feet from the edge. “I could throw you so far from land and into the sea that they would never find your remains.”  
“I’m sorry.” Darcy shouts. “I’m sorry. Please, please stop. I didn’t mean it! It was just, it was just a stupid joke!”  
“I am Asgardian, you are nothing more than a pathetic mortal. I am a King, you are my subject. I could have you executed at any time for any reason.” He places her back on her feet and glares down at her. “Do not test me.”  
Darcy lowers her eyes, shaking and nodding. The God-King catches her chin and lifts her head so she looks him right in the eye. His expression softens when he sees the raw terror on her face.

“I understand loyalty.” He says, his tone far more gentle. “Thor inspires it, but it is misplaced. One day he will leave you to die.” The God-King looks out at the dark waves. “He turned on me, his own brother. We fought side by side for centuries, but as soon as I needed him, he left me to rot.” He looks down at her with pity. “He likes the idea of protecting the mortal herd, but only the idea. In practice his protection lacks any real conviction. Mine has far more substance. Work for me, give me your loyalty and I will make sure you never come to harm.”  
Darcy bites her lower lip, but nods in agreement. The God-King smooths her hair and pushes a few errant strands for her face.  
“I like you, Intern Darcy. I am sure there is a place for you in my court. But a king can never be challenged, do you understand? I can never be seen to be weak, I am not allowed to be kind.”  
“War’s a bitch.” Darcy croaks out and the God-King smiles.  
“Indeed she is.” He says and lets her go, ushering her back into the grove and away from the cliffs. 

“Now show me, how do you cough?”  
Darcy gives him a demonstration.  
“How do you sneeze?”  
“I can’t do that one on demand…”  
The God-King gestures and Darcy starts sneezing. He nods and gives her a handkerchief to wipe her nose afterwards.  
“Do you spit phlegm or do you swallow it?”  
“I tend to have a glass on the side I spit into at night. So I don’t have to get up every five minutes. A clear glass so I can see if the colour’s bad or not…”  
“Disgusting.” The God-King says in disapproval.  
“You get sick much?”  
“Never.”  
“Then you don’t get that phlegm is a good indicator of how the illness is progressing, so you can tell if you’re getting a chest infection or something. Anyway, Jane got me doing the glass spitting thing, she’s pretty weird about some stuff…”  
“This is your science?”  
“Pretty much.” Darcy shakes her head. “Guessing our health care isn’t a patch on where you come from.”  
“Primitive in the extreme.” The God-King agrees.  
“Keep it yellow. A kind of beige yellow. That means everything’s okay. If it turns bright yellow or green, Jane’ll freak and brown is just a no.”  
“Very well.” The God-King says. “She will keep track?”  
“Like only a dedicated and slightly weird scientist can…” Darcy shrugs.  
“Thank you for your honesty.” The God-King shakes his head. “As distasteful as it is.”  
“So not my fault.” 

“Ummm… Are you going to let me down any time soon…?” You ask. “This is my only shirt, y’know?”  
The God-King smiles, his eyes bright with mischief.  
“Perhaps it would be fun to leave you for the others to find. I’m sure you could think up a decent excuse.”  
“It’s midnight! They’ll be hours. Come on… Please?” You ask, keeping your voice light and comical. Darcy’s messed up his jovial mood and you know that you need to get him smiling again to give her a chance when he takes her back to New York. You raise your arms and grin in a helpless gesture and the God-King walks over.  
“Very well, but only because it was your birthday a few days ago.” He says, reaching up and lifting you down.  
“You knew it was my birthday? And you didn’t tell me?”  
“We were both a little pre-occupied.” The God-King shrugs. “I was going to tell you before the end of this meeting, but it seems you’ve beaten me to it.”  
“The Director told me and Darcy showed me the date…” You look up at him. “Do you have birthdays? On Asgard?”  
“Of course.”  
“When’s yours?”  
“None of your business. We only celebrate it properly once every ten years anyway, otherwise we’d be constantly preparing. A noble’s birthday is a very large occasion and a royal one can last for over a month or more.”  
“Wow!” You grin lop-sided and the God-King smiles back. “You’ll have to invite me to the next one.”  
“Don’t get your hopes up.” He tells you and you laugh and shake your head.

The God-King suddenly goes quiet and serious. He kneels down beside you and reaches into his coat. He gives you a small package wrapped in red tissue paper.  
“On Asgard, between our decade celebrations, we give little birthday tokens to each other. A small gift that holds importance and meaning to the recipient.”  
You stare down at the small wrapped present in your hand and look at him for permission before you start to open it with trembling fingers.  
Inside is a small filigree brooch of a swallow in flight. It has diamonds at the tips of its wings and sapphires for eyes.  
“My mum’s… My mum’s brooch.” You say fighting not to cry. It was the most expensive piece of jewellery she owned. The metal was platinum, the diamonds and sapphires real. Dad had tried to get her to keep it safe, to get it insured, but it had been in the family for generations and every member had worn it with pride. She hadn’t been about to ruin the family tradition, just because of circumstance. Of course the God-King would have that memory. The second he saw it he would have known the brooch was yours.  
“The crews got around to your block about a week ago. I had them keep an eye out for anything interesting.” The God-King says smiling. “We found it on her coat, grey wool, torn beyond repair I’m afraid.”  
“She always kept it on the lapel. On the day… On the day you came… it was hung by the door…”  
The tears start falling. You look up at him.  
“Thank you.” You hug him tightly. “Thank you.”  
“Family is important.” He says gently. “But keep it hidden.”  
“I will.”  
“Now, it’s time for you to return to my brother. You will not have to wait long, soon they will realise they have no choice but to accede to my demands. I wish I could take you now, but there is more at stake than just simply taking you back. Enjoy tomorrow’s show.”  
The God-King pulls away and kisses you on the forehead. He stands, walking over to the real Darcy. The illusion of her comes over to you.  
“Show the way.” It says and you nod. You wave goodbye to Darcy and she smiles wanly back, putting on a brave face for you.  
The God-King takes her by the arm and leads her away.

*

“Damn it.” You stop half way back to the house.  
“What’s up?” The Darcy illusion asks and you sigh.  
“Darcy still has the front door keys… If they go missing, everyone’ll know something’s wrong.”  
The illusion pauses for a second and scrunches its nose like Darcy does when she’s thinking.  
“Give me a minute.” She mutters, makes a strange double handed gesture and the keys fall into the snow at her feet.  
“How did you do that?” You ask, bending over to scoop them up.  
“It’s still me, child.” The Darcy says in the God-King’s voice. “I’m just wearing a different skin for convenience.”  
“But that still doesn’t explain…”  
“I have a pocket realm, held outside of time and space, where I can carry extra items. I took the keys from Darcy, placed them in the pocket realm and then took them out here.”  
“You’ve been able to do that all the time I’ve known you?”  
“Distance is a factor. We’re still close enough for this illusion to access it. A mile or so and the ability goes away. It stays with my actual physical form.”  
“Oh.” You look at him. “Can you show me how to do it? That would be really useful.”  
“Finish your beginner lessons first and then we’ll see.”  
“Okay.” You flick through the keys until you find the one for the front door. “And can you go back to being Darcy? That voice coming from her is really weird.”  
“No problems.” The illusion says in Darcy’s voice again. You look at her steadily then shake your head.  
“Whatever.” You sigh. “Let’s just get this over with.”

You go through the front door using the keys and walk into the kitchen to re-latch the window from the inside. You show the illusion where Darcy’s room is and you put the keys in the top drawer of her beside cabinet, once the illusion gets the place from the real Darcy via the real God-King. You don’t know if you’re happy with this deception, but your options are limited. If you give the game away the real Darcy will die, but if you play along Thor and the Director will never trust you again and it could jeopardise your chances of getting home. Ultimately, to save her life, you agreed to be complicit. Willing or not, you have to go through with this. But it doesn’t make it any easier.  
You watch the illusion lie on the bed and then with a shimmer of gold it looks as if she’s tucked under the blankets.  
“Little privacy?” She asks and you smile.  
“Sure. See you in the morning, when you can watch me eat your soup.” You say, giving a small mocking bow.  
“Look forward to it.” The illusion winks at you and you close the door to leave her to get some pretend sleep. 

*

The next port of call is Filo. You knock on the door as quietly as you can.  
“Come.” He calls and you open the door a crack and slip inside.  
“Hi.” You say and Filo indicates the spare chair by the table in his room. He pulls another glass from the drawer in his desk and pours you a shot from the vodka bottle he’s working his way through.  
“Thank you.” You say as you sit down and pick the glass up. Filo raises his and you clink a simple toast.  
“To seeing tomorrow.” Filo says gravely, but with a twinkle in his eye.  
“What, no world peace?” You ask.  
“World peace is a nice idea. It might even work one day. Seeing tomorrow? A true and realistic achievement.” He downs his shot and you follow. This alcohol is far better than the schnapps. He pours you both another measure. 

“So, is it cold outside this evening?” He asks. He smiles at your expression. “I heard you walking around.”  
“Darcy’s gone.” It blurts itself out before you can stop it. Filo raises an eyebrow. “The God-King took her.”  
“He was here?” He asks and you nod. You show him the message and the map and Filo snorts with amusement. “He likes his little pranks.”  
“Darcy followed me. I should have been more careful, but I didn’t see her.”  
“She’s still alive?” Filo asks, dipping the paper in his vodka and then setting fire to it with his lighter. It burns with a pretty blue flame.  
“Yes. I made my case, he was going to murder her as an example.”  
“It would have been a waste of a good and useful person.”  
“That’s what I told him. So she’s alive, for now. If a little beaten up.” You look into your drink guiltily.  
“Bruises are better than dead.” Filo says bluntly and you nod.  
“Yeah.” You down another shot and Filo dutifully refills your glass. “There’s an illusion of her in her bedroom.”  
“Prudent. If one of his mortals were to go missing, Thor would move heaven and earth to find them.”  
“That’s what I told the God-King – that if Thor found Darcy dead he’d become far too unpredictable.” You sit back. “But the God-King really hates him.”  
Filo sits and thinks about this for a while, sipping at his vodka.

“Family can be the hardest thing. You can both love and hate them and do the most petty of things to get back at them.” Filo shrugs. “I am glad I never had any.”  
“Murder’s petty?” You ask and Filo grins.  
“It is for the gods. You ever read any mythology?”  
“Not really.”  
“Murdering mortals doesn’t even come under a misdemeanour. Nor does turning a whole island’s population into sheep, though that was a different pantheon.”  
“You think there might be more out there? Other than Asgardians?”  
“Who knows? Maybe they’re all corruptions of the Norse Myths. Let’s hope so, eh?”  
“Yeah. It’d be crap if other ones just started showing up.”  
“Agreed.” Filo looks at you slyly. “So why are you really here?”

“Can’t hide anything from you, huh?” You reach into your pocket and give him the camera. “The God-King wants Miss Foster’s research.”  
“Easily done.” Filo flicks the small piece of plastic in his hand. He twists it active and quickly goes through the motions with no instructions from you. “Huh.”  
“What?” You ask and Filo smiles.  
“It has no internal memory. Everything it takes gets sent directly to a server, but we are too far away for it to reach New York.”  
“But that makes no sense.” You say, frowning.  
“Unless someone’s planning on using a satellite uplink.”  
“Does the God-King have a satellite?”  
“Not that I know of.” Filo shrugs and turns it off and puts it in his pocket. “And I doubt he would trust Mr Stark with one, even if he did.”

“So what do you think it is?” You ask.  
“A diversion. They expect to find something on me and they will. I will take the pictures and let them get stored wherever they go. I have no wish to disappoint either party.” Filo grins. “I like your master. He has a sense of the fun and absurd alongside his actual plans.”  
“I guess.” You frown to show you don’t understand.  
“You have a spy.” Filo says, gesturing at himself and talking like a teacher. “Everyone knows you have a spy and that they are in the enemy’s territory. So you give them a clever gadget to get everyone on edge. Once they discover the pictures have been uploaded, your enemy will spend a long time trying to find them and waste a lot of manpower that could be placed elsewhere. Very James Bond, eh?”  
“But he might need the research.”  
“Your God-King already has it.” Filo taps the side of his head. “He looked through your memories, yes?”  
“Uh-huh.”  
“And you spent most of today sitting at Miss Foster’s desk, looking through her notes and making new ones.”  
The penny drops.  
“Shit.”  
“So he has no need of this.” Filo taps his pocket. “It is a diversion.”

He downs his vodka and puts the lid back on the bottle.  
“Finish your drink and go to bed, child. They will be waking you bright and early. Probably with a cake.”  
“Seriously?” You down the vodka and give the glass to Filo.  
“They are convinced if they give you back a little of your childhood they will secure your loyalty.”  
“Because I’m a kid?”  
“Yes.”  
“That’s dumb.”  
“But they will try all the same.”  
“Thanks for the drink.” You say and Filo nods in reply. “I’m going to miss you when you go to New York.”  
“Give it a while yet. A day at least.” Filo shrugs. “You still want to play with your boat on the lake?”  
“Absolutely.” You grin happily.  
“Then I will see you later, once the sun has risen.”  
“Night, Filo.”  
“Good night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, things are starting to move.  
> There are going to be a few more Thor and kid chapters before things really start hotting up again, but I think the kid needs the break.  
> I'm going to try and get these chapters done in the next fortnight as quickly as I can ready for the next scene change. 
> 
> See you all in the next few days, hopefully Friday. :)


	38. Birthday Treats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor hooks Mjolnir in the crook of his arm and goes down on one knee in front of you.  
> “And now, you must ask yourself.” He says, his voice serious, but his eyes twinkling. “Are you worthy?”  
> You slide off the wall and stand uncertainly. You glance at him for direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes, I know, it's Saturday, not Friday, but getting a few spare hours to edit my own stuff is as precious as gold dust at the minute. But the updates will keep coming, I'm half way through the next one already.
> 
> Chapter summary:  
> The kid gets their birthday.  
> They find out the answer to *that* question.
> 
> Enjoy. :)

*

You try to sleep, but you can’t. Thoughts of Darcy, of what’s happening to her, of what’s going to happen tomorrow, it all keeps you awake and alert. So instead you get out the stone the God-King gave you and run your fingers over the flat pebble, feeling the incisions on the surface. They’ve been made by a sharp knife, cut expertly and the edges filed to smoothness so you don’t cut your finger as you trace the outline. It tastes different to the last one, it has a harder feeling to it, like brick and steel and cold incarceration. 

The Tesseract hates it. It curls and whines inside you, begging you to throw the stone away. It wants you to trust it, to listen to it, to learn from it instead. It whispers of the untrustworthiness of Asgardians, of all mortal beings. Of the weaknesses of flesh and emotion. It whispers of the perfect power of a gemstone, the purity of energy, the dark wonders of the void. It promises to show you, to teach you, to help you live until the end of this Universe. If only you will throw the carved stone away and open your mind to Infinity.  
You run your thumb over the circle of metal in you palm and consider what it would look like if it became blue, glowing crystal.  
“No.” You say eventually. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested. But right now we’re both beholden to the same master. There’s not much either of us can do about it.”  
The Tesseract hisses softly.  
“You know I’m right.” You say quietly and the energy growls in reluctant agreement.  
“And anyway. I know I’d quickly become your butt monkey instead.” You shrug. “I’m not that stupid.”  
You feel the frisson of static that is the Tesseract laughing and then it goes quiet in your head.  
“It was worth a try.” You agree quietly and then go back to studying the stone. 

You think you’ve got it, that you can finally start to draw it in your head when you’re startled out of your thoughts by a sharp knock on the door. It’s daylight outside, you’ve been lost in contemplation for hours.  
“Just a minute.” You call out, stuffing your stone under the pillow. You look down and see the brooch on your lap. You shove that under the pillow as well.  
“Kid?” Jane calls out.  
“Yeah. I’m just waking up. Give me a moment…”  
You get up to open the door and then you realise that you’re still dressed in your HYDRAish uniform.  
“Uhhh, I’m not decent. Just let me find my pyjamas.” You shout out and you struggle with the laces of your boots. You trip, catching the boat and knocking it off its stand with a crash.  
“You okay in there?”  
“I’m fine. I’m fine… Uhm, I’ll be out in a minute, I promise.” You check the boat for cracks and you’re relieved to see that it isn’t harmed.  
“See you at the couch, five minutes, okay?” Jane calls out cheerily.  
“Five minutes. Gotcha.” 

*

You stumble out in slippers and your stupid rainbow covered pyjamas. The slippers are brown furry bunnies, you couldn’t look more dorky if you tried. You’re so caught up with how you look and if you’ve hidden everything properly that you don’t notice that only Jane and Thor are sat at the couch until you’re only a few steps away. You stop dead, looking at them with suspicion.  
“Where’s Filo?” You ask quietly.  
“He’s busy. On the phone. Fury wanted to speak with him.” Jane shrugs.  
“Darcy?”  
“I told her not to go out as often as she did. She’s got the flu.” Jane smiles. “Too much snow.”  
“Uhm…” You move from foot to foot, uncertain of what to do.  
“Come. Sit.” Thor says, his voice filled with honest cheer. He raises his arm and indicates the spare cushion in the centre of the couch. You nod and move forward to sit between them. You’re proud how little you tremble. Jane instantly gets up and heads for the kitchen. You watch her go with apprehension.

“Happy birthday.” Thor says. He reaches behind him and pulls out a box wrapped in bright red paper. “Surprise.”  
You take it and look down at it thoughtfully. It’s about a foot long and six inches in width, a few inches deep.  
“Open it.” Thor urges gently. You glance at him and back down at package. You turn it trying to find the ends of the tape. You glance back up at him and see him tapping his leg in vague impatience.  
“I can rip it?” You ask.  
“Of course.” Thor grins wide and you answer it with a happy smile of your own. You tear at the red shiny paper with your fingers, biting at the difficult tape with your teeth, fully aware you’re putting on a show for him. Thor laughs heartily at your antics and, once the tattered shreds float down to the carpet, you’re holding a leather box in your hands. The clasp is silver and isn’t difficult to operate, the hinges move easily. Inside, sat on a bed of soft black velvet, are a pair of long daggers.  
“Friend Filo was right. You need to be able to defend yourself.” Thor says with a smile. He’s watching you carefully. 

You take out the first dagger, it’s beautiful. Straight, sharp, steel edges with curving engraved filigree along both sides of the blade, inlaid with copper. The handle and grip are bronze, wrapped in yellow leather and there are amber stones, one on the base of the blade and a larger spherical one capping the hilt. And something else as well…  
“They’re not…” You turn the blade in your hand. “It feels… Not Midgardian?”  
Thor looks impressed.  
“They are not.” He agrees. “I brought them with me from Asgard.” He leans down conspiratorially. “For Jane, for her defence.”  
“Not big on knives, huh?” You ask and he grins.  
“I never presented them to her. She fights with her mind, not with physical prowess. But I thought that you would make good use of them.”  
“Thank you.” The blade seems to shimmer when you catch your palm against it, like it’s vibrating at a frequency too high for a normal human to detect. Like it’s alive, filled with a strange-tasting magic. You test the weight of the dagger on your palm and nodding with satisfaction.  
“They’re beautiful. Thank you.” You repeat and Thor smiles at your gratitude. He watches as you roll it on your palm and catch the tip on your index finger, like you used to do with the old one the God-King gave you. Thor gives a small inhalation of pleased surprise as he watches you balance the blade straight up without it wavering.  
“You are skilled with knives?” He asks.  
“Your brother taught me.” You flip it evenly and let it arc once in a perfect circle before catching the hilt neatly. You pick up the second blade and start to inspect it in the same way as the first. 

“We have cake!” You look up as Jane comes back into the room carrying a large silver platter. She slides it onto the table, a large chocolate cake with white frosting and brown sprinkles. She grins at you. “You want to cut?”  
“With these?” You look at the blades and back up at her. “That would be…”  
“A fitting first use. Used to cut in joy rather than anger. The way things should be.” Thor says, his voice soft and encouraging. The God-King would tear you in half for disrespecting fighting blades in such a way, but you’re under Thor’s roof. So you grin, nod and lean forward. You cut the first piece with one blade and give it to Thor and then cut with the second knife to give one to Jane. She’s provided dessert plates and napkins. You cut yourself a slice and then use the excess napkins to clean the cake off the steel. Jane gives you a leather harness with two scabbards wrapped in a yellow ribbon. They’re a lovely deep, vibrant brown and pressed with Nordic runes.  
“It this magic?” You ask, standing to put it on over your pyjamas and laughing at the discrepancy between rainbows and thick leather. The harness makes the scabbards hang just under your arms and against your ribs, concealing the weapons from view if you wore a jacket.  
“No, just pretty.” Jane says winking.  
“Good.” You flip each dagger in turn, giving them a final balance test before slipping them into each scabbard. 

“Hey, you’re really talented.” Jane says as she sits down, digging a fork into her cake. “You and Thor should train some time.”  
You glance at him and smile uneasily.  
“I would be honoured.” Thor give a small half bow and then picks up a fork from the table.  
“Maybe later.” You say reaching for your own plate, still standing. You don’t want to sit down between them again, you don’t like the vulnerability.  
“Of course, there is no rush.” He agrees, taking a big mouthful and nodding at Jane in satisfaction. “This is good.” He says with his mouth half full and Jane glares at him. He grins and wipes chocolate off his lips. You lift your fork and start to eat daintily, cutting the pieces just the right size for a single bite. Jane and Thor make small talk, but you concentrate on your food and don’t add to the conversation.  
“Why the silence?” Jane asks.  
“Is the cake not good?” Thor enquires. You glance at them both.  
“I don’t talk during meal times.” You say. “No offense meant.” You raise a fork full of cake. “It’s excellent.”  
“Good, Darcy made it. She stayed up to finish the icing.”  
“Oh.” You look down at the cake. This was why she’d been up so late.  
“Oh?” Jane asks.  
“I didn’t cut her a slice.” You say to cover your discomfort.  
“Later. She needs some sleep.” Jane grimaces. “Right now she’s in snot hell.”  
“Maybe I should take her the cake.” You say. “I can’t catch the flu.”  
“You can’t?”  
“Uh-huh. It’s part of the Thing.” You raise your palm. “Very healthy white blood count.”  
“Well, that’s a relief.” Jane nods. “I hate having to deal with illness and at the moment with the Tesseract and everything, I’m really busy.”  
“I’ll handle it.” You agree. “It’ll be good to be useful.”  
“You are.” Jane says so forcefully it catches you by surprise. “Don’t let anyone tell you any different.” 

She puts her hand on your arm in a comforting gesture. “You’ve been through hell, we all know it. But here you’ve got a safe space to work out what you want to do next.” She gives you a slight smile. “I know it’s hard for you to believe, but you are safe here. Take your time, let yourself breathe. It’s time to stop just reacting to what happens to you. It’s time to take control.”  
You look at her, at her earnest face and you want to laugh out loud. Instead you look at her gravely.  
“I’m not in control.” You say, shrugging.  
“You think that, but it isn’t true. We’re blocking you because we want you to choose, for yourself, what you do next.”  
“I want to go back to New York.” You say to her in full earnest, meeting her eye, trying to make her understand.  
She sighs and glances at Thor.

“We’ll work on it.” She says, patting your arm as she gets up. “I’ve got a lot of reading to do today, so Thor’s agreed to babysit. You okay with that?”  
“I get a choice?” You ask glancing at him with apprehension.  
“You want to spend the day with me, you can. Filo’s going to be busy well into the afternoon.” Jane tells you.  
“But I would like to get to know you better.” Thor says. He’s keeping his hands on his lap, giving you a respectful space. You look at him, biting your bottom lip uncertainly. “After all, there is every chance we might be family.”  
“I’m human.” You say carefully.  
“Family is not always blood.” Thor says gravely. He stands and offers his hand. “Would you do the honour of walking with me?”

“Sure.” You watch him get up, but don’t let him touch you. You keep your hands firmly by your sides and Thor looks disappointed as he lets his arm drop.  
You smile and nod at Jane.  
“Thanks. You’ve made me feel a bit better.” You smile through the lie and she takes it at face value.  
“Thor won’t hurt you.” She says, squeezing your shoulder before heading for her work table. “I promise.”  
“Dust and thread.” You mutter under your breath as you turn your smile to Thor. He walks you to your room so you can get changed back into your HYDRAish uniform. The holster fits much more snuggly against your grey shirt and Thor helps you adjust the straps so the blades sit comfortably under your ribs. Every time Thor comes into contact with you, his movements are slow and careful. He’s taking every effort to be unthreatening, to show you every courtesy. Once you’re dressed and ready he offers his hand again and this time you take it. The wide, bright smile of encouragement he gives you is enough to ease the tight ball of terror you feel when his fingers close around your own.  
You let him lead you towards the front door and outside.

*

“So, you have been to Asgard, then?” Thor asks as you crunch through the snow.  
“To your brother’s memory of it, sure.” You agree. You’re just in your shirt, you refused to take the jacket off the snowman and Thor let you talk him around. You’re not convinced you’ve won the battle over wrapping up warm, but today the fight is yours.  
“Where did he take you?” Thor’s eyes are wandering the tree line. He doesn’t look worried, so you figure it’s just a warrior’s habit.  
“Down into the market place and then into this big tented area.”  
“Not to the palace?” Thor sounds surprised.  
“No. It looked like a poor area. The tables were all mismatched and the crowd was rowdy, but the food was really good.”  
“He took you to Ragnar’s Pit?” Thor asks, disgusted.  
“I don’t know.” You shrug. “He never told me the name.”  
“He used to go down there all the time in his youth. Gambling, using his magic illicitly, getting caught and ending up in fights. Mother tried to ban him, then father tried to stop him leaving his rooms, but he always got out somehow and ended up there.” Thor shakes his head. “Always unrepentant.”  
“We didn’t fight in his memory. Everyone showed him deference.” You think about it. “But then it looked like it was only late afternoon.”  
“No one drunk enough to take on a Prince of the Realm at that hour.” Thor agrees.  
“And I guess he was showing me around. He made me wear flowers in my hair.”  
“As a child should.” Thor agrees. “What did you talk about?”  
You look down and kick at the snow.  
“Ah.”  
You’re silent for a while.

“I can’t talk about it.” You say eventually. “It was about you and the kingship and all that. He didn’t want to talk about it, I pushed him and he wanted to play nice so he told me. Don’t know how much of it was true, of course.”  
“Of course.” Thor gives you a knowing smile.  
“But it was nice. He was nice.” You run your hands over the handles of your knives, checking the way the scabbards lie against your sides. “Asgard’s beautiful.”  
Thor watches you thoughtfully.  
“Your body language gives you away.” He tells you softly.  
“And dangerous, right? Asgard can be really dangerous.”  
“Yes. It can be.”  
“He loves it. I think it’s the only thing he truly loves.”  
“Loki?”  
“Yes.”  
“He told you that?”  
“No.” You exhale with amusement. “We don’t share, we never share. But I know his moods. I know him. His voice changes when he talks about it. He changes. He misses home.”  
“Does he miss me?” Thor asks so carefully that you glance up at him.

“That’s complicated. You two, your whole family, have a massive history I can’t even touch.” You look away and take the plunge. “And you weren’t exactly going for brother of the year when you two were growing up.” You cringe, waiting for anger, but it doesn’t come. Thor’s too caught up in his memories to notice the dig.  
“I loved him.” He says. “I still do, but I just cannot understand him anymore. I wonder if I ever did.” Thor sighs. “He was always weaker than us, always quiet, always sly. Whenever he won it was always through trickery. He could never take us on head to head, so he never tried. We made fun of him for it, just japes, to try and get him to be honourable. To make him a better warrior.”  
You don’t look at him. You don’t know what to say. You find yourself completely disgusted by the whole thing.  
“And your brother was up for that, yeah?” You say, fighting and losing to keep the edge out of your voice. “He appreciated your efforts?”  
“We never meant any harm. He knew that.”  
“Are you sure?” You ask. “Because you need to be really sure about that.”  
“I’m sure.”  
“Like the time you kicked his ribs in?” You ask. 

You’re still angry about it.  
Sure, the God-King told you the story just after you thought he was going to rip your mind to shreds, but it had cut you deep, made you feel sorry for him. You know what it’s like to be bullied by someone bigger and stronger. You spent half your life being bullied by bigger kids in school. As an only child you used to dream of having an older sibling, having someone who would stand up for you in the playground.  
Once you’d been shoved over the wall where everyone sat and chatted at lunch-time. You’d landed bad and hurt your ankle. You’re still not sure how you made it home that night, it’s all a crazy blur… Mum went mad when she saw how your foot swelled up and she made you stay home for a week.  
A week alone… Your mum and dad had to work… And every night you were stuck in bed you’d dreamed of having an older brother or sister. How they’d stood up for you, how they’d helped you limp home, how they’d sat by your bed every day.  
All the stuff you would have shared…  
You can’t imagine what it would be like if it was your older brother doing the bullying… How helpless that would make you feel… How worthless…

Thor laughs, breaking you out of your thoughts.  
“Which time?” He asks. “We were always injuring each other. It wasn’t a good practice if one of us didn’t end up in the healing room.”  
“How often was it your brother?” You ask and Thor shrugs, he might look slightly embarrassed.  
“Perhaps the most often, yes.” He agrees slowly. “But he always used to ask for it. Out of all of us he had the mouth, you understand.”  
“And he never learned when to shut up, so you did it for him?”  
“You twist my words.” Thor sighs. “And I see he has twisted you against me, before we even met. Asgard is a world of warriors, child. Fighting is our way, Loki was raised on it, same as us all.”

“So, when we train together, you gonna beat the hell out of me?” You ask, looking at him with all the bravado you can muster.  
“There is no healing room here, child. And you are mortal. I will go easy on you.”  
“Maybe I won’t go easy on you.” You say and he laughs loudly. He clasps your shoulder without thinking, and it takes all your will not to shy away. Your defiance is all show, you’re only doing it because you think that’s what he wants from you. You have to bide your time, you have to play along. No matter what Jane says, you have no choices here. You have to play the game.

“Such bravery from one so small.” Thor grins and you answer him with a fierce smile of your own. “I think will we get along, once you learn to trust me.”  
“Trust is hard to find.” You agree. “Your brother taught me that.”  
Thor frowns.  
“Loki is twisted. He is mad and he is lost from his brush with death. If I‘d known he was alive, I would have gone after him, tried to save him, to reason with him. But no one could have survived the Bifrost collapsing around them. Not even father thought it possible…”  
“But he did.”  
“He did.” Thor sighs. “And I cannot imagine what he went through…”  
“Then don’t blame him for what he’s doing now. If you can’t imagine it, then it had to be pretty bad, right? Incredibly traumatic.”  
Thor looks down at you, then he looks away and you walk along in silence.  
You wonder if you’ve pushed him too far.

*

Thor takes you off the path and through the tree line until you come to a clearing with an ancient, crumbling wall outlining the entire space. It looks like an old field or something. On the hill about half a mile away you can make out a building, collapsed in on itself with age.  
“This is an old farm?” You ask as you step over the rubble and follow him into the space.  
“An old church. Built on an ancient holy site.” Thor gestures at the building. “Once they left me offerings there.”  
“You’ve been up?” You ask and Thor shrugs.  
“Not for over a thousand years.” He says. “I was young, it was fun. But ultimately, vain and childish.”  
“They worshipped you as a god?” You ask.  
“Me and my brother. We travelled the whole of Scandinavia together in our youth. Kept the ties between Asgard and Midgard strong after the Jotan attacked. Until father decided the mortals needed to find their own way without us.”  
“Jotan…” You mutter. “Jotan…” It sounds familiar, but you can’t place it.  
“Frost giants.” Thor says. “Big and blue and taller than a building.” He raises his arm above his head. “They tried to take over your world once.” His voice is jovial, like he’s telling a story. “But father stopped them.”

“And then…” You frown. “Didn’t you get banished because you started the war again?”  
Thor goes quiet and you take a few steps away from him.  
“Sorry.” You say and he sighs and shakes his head.  
“No need.” He says. “You speak only the truth.” He puts his head on one side. “Loki?”  
“Yeah…” You pretend you’ve seen something interesting on the wall about ten feet away as an excuse to put some distance between you and him. “In Asgard. Guess that bit was real, then?”  
“It was.” Thor agrees. “You need not fear me.”  
You glance up at him and smile timidly.  
“It’s hard.” You say in apology and he lifts his hand to show he is not offended.  
“I can understand.” He says. “Just agreeing to accompany me today must have been difficult for you.”  
“It is.” You nod and look down at your feet. You steel yourself for the next lie. “But I want this to work.” You glance back up and can tell from his expression he’s buying it. He wants you to come over to his side, to help SHIELD, to fight his brother. This is what this entire trip is about.  
“So.” You smile, letting the kid out in your eyes. “I hear you can do really cool things with Mjolnir.”  
“You know its name?” Thor reaches for the weapon on his belt, lifting it and hefting it playfully.  
“I know its name.” You agree, grinning. “But I want to know if your brother lied. So – you can call down the lightening and you can fly with it… What else can you do?”  
Thor beams.  
“Let me show you.” 

*

You spend the next twenty minutes doing nothing but stoking Thor’s ego. He’s amazing, awe-inspiring and terrifying. You’d hate him to be an enemy, but the stuff he can do with Mjolnir is just – so fricking cool! He can throw it and the hammer just keeps going. Then he stretches out his arm and opens his hand and it just come flying back, moving at astounding speed but stopping just before his closes his hand around the hilt so that it doesn’t even slap into his palm. He can spin it in a circle of absolute death, unstoppable and unrelenting. He drills through a rock with it, firing tiny stone pieces in a fine, controlled spray that takes down part of the crumbling wall thirty feet away. And Thor knows how to use the hammer, knows its reach perfectly. It’s an extension of himself, he moves with it cleanly and without any hesitation. It’s like the God-King with one of his blades, so sure, so deadly, so perfect.  
You clap and you scream in joy and you laugh from where you sit watching him, playing the adoring kid to the hilt and when he’s finished he takes a bow and then strolls over. 

He hooks Mjolnir in the crook of his arm and goes down on one knee in front of you.  
“And now, you must ask yourself.” He says, his voice serious, but his eyes twinkling. “Are you worthy?”  
You slide off the wall and stand uncertainly. You glance at him for direction.  
“Can you lift the hammer from my arm?” He asks and you look at it and then back at him. He has his arm bent so that the hammer rests between his forearm and bicep. The handle falls down in the gap of his bent elbow. You have to get real close to him to try and you’re scared as all hell, but you want to know. Who wouldn’t want to know? And Thor’s smile is encouraging. It could be a trap, it could be a cruel trick, or it could just be his way of creating a trust exercise.  
“Don’t move, okay?” You say and he nods emphatically.  
“You have my word.” 

You move forward cautiously, but Thor doesn’t move a muscle and his eyes are mock serious. You touch the hammer first with out-stretched fingertips, feeling the cold metal and the flat edges. You touch the triangles at the corners as you move forward. Your eyes are on the hammer but your attention is completely focussed on Thor. And then the hammer shivers and a rune appears on its side and you forget everything else. You can hear it singing against your palm, a sweet resonant hum that travels down arm and into your bones. Into your brain and your mind. You feel it searching you as you reach down and grasp the leather around the handle, bright and soft and beautiful. It’s like having a sunrise in your head, one filled with gentle oranges and reds. It means you absolutely no harm, but it’s searching for something it cannot find. And then it’s gone and a single word resonates in your thoughts.

No.

And you almost weep at the rejection. 

“That was… Different…” Thor says quietly and you look up at him.  
“I’m not… It said no…” You tell him, almost breaking up at the words.  
“It spoke to you?” Thor asks.  
“Yes.” You look back down at it and respectfully take your hand away from the handle. “It didn’t find what it was looking for.”  
“I’m sorry.” Thor says and his tone is genuine. “This is normally… It’s a game, everyone wants to know…” He sighs. “It can become quite rowdy at times with everyone crowding and trying, but… It’s never reacted like that before.”  
“Then I guess we’re not family.” You smile with regret. “Since only a Prince of Asgard can lift it.”  
“Is that what Loki told you?” Thor asks, grinning.  
“Yes.” You can’t take your eyes off Mjolnir. You’d do anything to feel that shimmer in your mind again.  
“Child…” Thor looks at you slyly. “Loki cannot lift it either.”  
“What?” You look at him startled. “But he said…” You bite your lip in annoyance. “He’s such a liar.”  
Thor winks at you.  
“But it showed recognition when you touched it. It considered your offer. It has never done that before.”  
“It was like… Like a sunrise in my mind… All gold and soft and filled with clouds…” You say dreamily.  
“Mjolnir is beyond compare.” Thor agrees. He looks down at the hammer and for a moment you both share a feeling of awe and wonder. Then Thor stands briskly and the moment is broken. You hurriedly back away. He puts Mjolnir back in his belt and looks down at you with his arms crossed on his chest. 

“Now. How would you feel to loaning me one of your knives and going a few practice rounds with me?” He asks.  
You reach for the knife on your left side, pull it neatly from the scabbard and flip it so that you are offering him the hilt.  
“Sure.” You say, grinning impishly. “But go easy on me okay? I’d like to make it to sixteen.”  
“You have many years ahead of you.” Thor agrees evenly. “Though not as many as I.”  
“Well, I’m only mortal.” You say, looking him up and down. “There’s no need to show off.”  
“I am a Prince of Asgard.” Thor tells you laughing. “There is always a reason for me to show off.”  
“We’ll see.” You say pulling your own knife from its scabbard and squaring off against him. Your knees are shaking but Mjolnir has given you a strange boost of confidence. Not all your bravado is faked this time around.  
“Now.” You toss your knife from hand to hand. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

*

“Owwwwwww.” It’s more a grunt than a word. You’re on your back in the snow and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to move again. You hear Thor walking over, his stride quick and measured.  
“Are you okay?” He asks, standing over you.  
“Uhhhhhhhh…” You’re not scared. You know he hadn’t meant the throw you clean across the clearing. More like a shove, the palm of his hand against your sternum, you skittering across the clearing, trying to keep your footing…  
And then…  
Ground…  
Face… 

“Are you hurt?” Thor asks, his tone filled with worry.  
“Uhm. Hurt, yeah… Owwww.” You glare at him. “Injured? I don’t, I don’t think so?”  
Thor offers his hand and you take it. It takes a while for the pain to ease enough for him to help you into a sitting position.  
“You kept hold of your blade.” Thor says approvingly. “You have good instincts.”  
You look at your knife, nestled in your right hand. You’re holding it so tightly your knuckles are white.  
“It’s mine.” You say. “I don’t own a lot, so I wasn’t going to throw it away.” You force your hand to relax and gently prise the blade free with your left hand, placing it back in your scabbard. Thor gives you his knife and you put that away too. You shake your right hand to try and shift the cramp.  
“Enough training for today, I feel.” Thor says and you nod.  
“Yeah.” You glare at him again as you pull your legs against your stomach, ready to try and rise.  
“Ow.”  
“You did not rough and tumble with my brother?” Thor asks, offering his hand.  
“No.” You say. “He taught me. He didn’t fight with me.”  
“And he taught you well. You have good reflexes for a mortal, good instincts too. A fighter’s spirit.”  
“You’ll make a warrior out of me yet?” You ask sardonically as you take his hand and Thor laughs.  
“We’ll see.”  
He helps you get up. 

You half limp to part of the wall that’s still standing and sit down. Thor sits down beside you and pulls two sandwiches and a bottle of water from a pouch in his belt. He offers the water first and you take a mouthful gratefully, letting it wake the parched tissues of your mouth. It’s cold and very refreshing. You pass it to him and he takes a single mouthful as well, moving it around before swallowing.  
“It’s nice out here.” You say, feeling the need to make small talk. “It’s quiet.”  
“Yes. A good place to rest.” Thor agrees. He passes you one of the sandwiches. It’s a little dented from the fighting, but a serviceable cheese and tomato. You take a large bite.  
“He knows you’re here, you know.” You say after finishing the sandwich in record time.  
“My brother?”  
“Yeah.”  
“I’m not surprised, I’m not hiding.” Thor passes you the water again. “You were hungry.”  
“I’ve still got a lot of growing to do.” You say flippantly and take a few mouthfuls before passing it back. “And shouldn’t you be hiding? He’s getting real powerful, real quick.”  
“I am not afraid of my brother.” Thor grunts. “He has never been able to best me.”  
You look at him, at the quiet confidence, and you sigh.

“This isn’t a practice fight.” You say eventually. “This is war.”  
“I am aware.” Thor gives you a fleeting smile. “This is not my first battle.”  
“I guess not.” You drum your heels on the wall. “So what happens when you win?”  
“I take Loki back to Asgard for trial.”  
“How?” You realise you’re playing with your collar absent-mindedly and you stop yourself. “Isn’t the Bifrost broken?”  
“I have a device that will harness the power of the Tesseract and use it to take us home.” Thor says. “Then the Tesseract will be placed in the vault in Asgard and never be used for ill again.”  
_Making Asgard one big old target._ You think silently to yourself.

“What about the Chitauri?” You ask.  
“Once the portal is closed the remnants of their race here will be removed and Midgard will be returned to normal.”  
“Won’t they be pissed?” You ask.  
“What can they do? They are far outside the Nine Realms connected by Yggdrasil and they have no means to travel fully into our galaxy.” Thor smiles. “They will be stranded without my brother’s help.”  
“So you’re not going to go and finish them off?” You ask.  
“Asgard does not practise genocide, child.” Thor says gravely and you look away embarrassed. “Only if there is no other choice. If the Chitauri do not accept their loss then that will be a battle in the future, one that will not play out on Midgard.”  
“Are you sure?” You ask, looking up at the wide, blue, cloudless sky.  
“I am sure.” Thor says. 

You both go quiet for a while. Thor finishes his sandwich and you listen to the soft breeze in the trees and the waves far down on the cliffs. Thor doesn’t think he’ll lose. He hasn’t even factored that into the equation. He’s so used to being in charge, of besting his brother in hand to hand combat, he hasn’t even thought that there might be an alternative. Or if he does accept it, he doesn’t voice it, doesn’t make it a real possibility. This isn’t his first battle… Has he ever lost before? And he doesn’t know about Thanos, doesn’t know his brother is being controlled. He thinks that if he gets his hands on the God-King then all this will be over.

“So…” You say as casually as you can. “Your brother really hates you, huh?”  
_Smooth._ You curse yourself silently. _Real smooth._  
Thor grimaces.  
“I no longer understand my brother.” Thor says carefully. “When we thought we were blood brothers, everything was different.”  
“What do you mean?” You ask.  
“He did not tell you?” Thor sounds surprised. “Loki was adopted.”  
“So he’s not really Asgardian royalty?” You take this revelation as calmly as you can. It’s no more weird than anything else that’s happened these last few months. And it explains quite a lot. Finding out you’re a peasant when you thought you were a Prince, that has to knock anyone’s confidence.

“No.” Thor lets out a deep breath. “Not exactly.”  
You look at him quizzically.  
“As far as my father explained it.” Thor looks down at his feet, leaning forward heavily. “Loki is indeed royalty. But not Asgardian royalty.”  
“I don’t understand…”  
“Loki is Jotan, he’s really a Frost Giant.”  
“What?” You look at him with your mouth open. “That can’t… I don’t… You’re shitting me!”  
“I am not.” Thor sighs deeply again. “There was a war, a thousand years ago between us and the Frost Giants. It played out here on Midgard.”  
“Yeah, you said…”  
“And father led our people in battle. We drove them back to Jotanheim, took the Casket of Ancient Winters – their power source – and made King Laufrey agree to peace.”  
“Okay… And…” 

Thor looks at you. He shakes his head. He gives another deep, reluctant sigh.  
“And father walked into one of their temples, just after the battle was won and there he found a Jotan baby. Tiny for a Frost Giant, left to die on the altar. He took pity on the young one, born different through no fault of their own… and after all that slaughter, an innocent life left to starve… Laufrey’s son. So my father took the child and raised it as his own, his second born.”  
“His stolen relic…” You say softly, remembering the memory of you writhing in agony on the floor in the kitchen, as seen through the God-King’s eyes.  
“That’s what Loki said, yes. When father told him the truth that was one of the first things my brother asked him.” Thor looks at you. “You are familiar with the story?”  
“No I… It was something he said, something he referenced. The reason he didn’t kill me…”

You look down, frowning, unsure of what you mean.  
“He said… He said that I was his stolen relic. His innocent life, found in the ruins of battle…” You look up at him. “I don’t know what it means…”  
“But you are mortal?” Thor asks softly.  
“Yes. With a mortal mum and a mortal dad. Both dead. But I’m… But I’m gifted…” You raise your palm. “He woke it, when he claimed me…”  
Thor takes your palm and his eyes flicker as he looks into your face.  
“He sees something special in you?” He asks intently.  
“Yes.” You look down at your palm. “Something more than just this circle.”  
You look at it, think about the wires inside you, all the potential you have.  
“It’s why I have to go back.” You say urgently. “Because I have to know. I have to know what he means. I have to know why. I have to learn what I am and only he can teach me.” 

“My father can help you. Jane will make the connection with the Tesseract energy inside of you. And then we can give you the answers you seek.”  
“Really?” You hate the hope in your voice. You sound so pathetic.  
“Really.” Thor cuffs you on the shoulder. “Come on, we should be getting back anyway. Fury should be here soon.”  
“What, wait, why?”  
“Loki will be at the nuclear site in less than two hours.”  
“What!” You stand, glaring at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”  
“You did not need to know.” Thor shrugs. “And we wanted to give you a peaceful morning.”  
“Great.” You huff. “Need to know. Marvellous.”  
“Hush now.” Thor says, his voice filled with humour. “We did not keep it from you for any evil reason.”  
“I know.” You sigh and your breath doesn’t cloud. “Just because I’m a kid...”  
“No. Because you needed some peace and quiet. What you have gone through… Even I would need a rest.” Thor cuffs your shoulder again. “Every warrior needs some time away from battle.”  
“I guess.”  
“Come, we will make lunch for Jane and Darcy. You can feed her some soup.”  
You grin at him.  
“I’d like that.” You agree as you fall in step behind him and head back for the observatory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's your answer.  
> I wanted to make finding out if the Kid was worthy to be special, a precious moment, which is why I saved it until now.  
> Mjolnir is a Norse holy weapon, like Excalibur in the Arthurian Legends. I really wanted to try and get that feeling across.  
> Marvel have made it into a bit of a party trick. Not that I don't love that scene in Age of Ultron where all the Avengers are having a try, but for the Kid I wanted to make it something special, something to work towards.  
> Something incredibly spiritual.
> 
> Anyway, I've got a few free hours now so back to the keyboard for me.  
> You're only as good as your last update after all.  
> I know how this works.... ;)


	39. Nuclear Options

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Really? What’s going on?” The illusion asks.  
> “You know what’s going on.” You shake your head and pop the first piece of soup covered bread in your mouth. “Probably better than I do.”  
> “Pretend I don’t.” Darcy winks. “Humour me.”  
> “Well, Fury’s here, with an entourage, to watch the God-King Loki’s attack on the missile base. They think it might be a trick so they’ve come here to make sure he doesn’t go after Jane and Darcy, even though…. well…” You shake your head at the confusion of that statement and return to firmer ground. “Thor thinks it might be a feint so that the God-King can get his revenge. He’s still knotted up with the idea that he’s here on Earth because he wants to get back at him.”  
> “Well, he’s going to be in for a surprise.” Darcy nods.  
> “That’s my thought too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I'm perpetually apologising for the length of time between chapters. I am massively sorry this is taking me so long, but the final two terms of University are always assignment heavy and I'm doing my best. After May I will be back to getting this written full-time, but until then things are going to be patchy.
> 
> That said - I have had this weekend completely free to get my writing done and I have written three chapters, this being the first. Expect another one tomorrow and a third on Monday, though they both might be submitted late at night like this one as I'm being a bit of a night owl at the moment. 
> 
> Also, and this is IMPORTANT people, these three chapters are interlocking. They are the final portion of this part of the Kid's story. So no matter what happens in this chapter, keep reading. It will be completely worth it. I promise. And when I say end of this part, I mean scene, not the end of the story, there is still much to write and I will write it. There are not just three chapters left, but these three are important to be read together. 
> 
> So enjoy, but keep with me, there is more coming and coming soon. ;)

*

The observatory is crowded by the time you return. Your palm tingles as you walk past the empty field outside the building and the Tesseract stirs with interest. It counts three Quinjets on the grass, hidden from sight by their stealth modes, but lit up by the energy required to keep them invisible. You decide not to notice them and pretend frightened surprise when you walk into the foyer and see all the people walking around.  
“I am sorry.” Thor says, his voice still gentle. “I should have warned you.”

You look around with nervous interest. There are military personal everywhere, more than could fit in three Quinjets. There must have been lots of arrivals in the last hour. Jane is busy, surrounded by people in turtle-neck jumpers and white science coats, reading the papers the Tesseract made you write. She’s talking earnestly and they are nodding in understanding, their eyes fascinated as they scan your handwriting. Filo sits off in the corner, everyone is studiously ignoring him and he has an expression of wry amusement on his face. He winks when he sees you and gestures towards the open plan lounge. You look at him quizzically and then start to wander over with Thor taking the lead. 

“Natasha!” You run forward when you see her, the picture of childish delight. She smiles when she sees you and catches you neatly into a hug. “You’re okay.”  
“Of course she’s okay.” Fury frowns at you and shakes his head. “She’s my best agent.”  
“Are Wanda and Pietro here?” You ask, looking around.  
“Nope. They were required elsewhere.” Fury says, he nods at Thor. “Have a good training session?”  
“The child is very talented.” Thor says, grinning down at you and thoughtlessly ruffling your hair. “I will make a warrior of them in no time.” You give them both a goofy smile, but tighten your grip around Natasha. 

“How are the knives?” She asks and you pull away to show her one of them. You flip it neatly and offer her the hilt and she takes it with reverential respect. She lifts it to the light and runs a finger down the metal.  
“Double edged.” She says thoughtfully.  
“I can handle it.” You say and she gives you a half-smile.  
“We know you can.” Fury agrees. “It why we told Thor to give them to you.”  
You glance at Thor and he looks a little uneasy.  
“I did not trust you.” He admits. “After I found the kitchen knife.”  
“But I pointed out that I had observed your knife fighting and I trusted your ability.” Natasha says.  
“And I pointed out that Filo had a point.” Fury nods. “That you needed to feel safe. And it isn’t like Miss Foster would ever use them.”  
“So I agreed to give you them as a gift and see how you worked with them.” Thor tells you.  
“A compromise.” Fury says.  
“And I was pleasantly surprised.” Thor smiles down at you warmly. “I was a fool to worry.”  
“And in Asgard, when a child comes of age their first gift is a weapon.” Natasha tells you.  
“That is true, but the child is not of age…” Thor starts to say.  
“And you told me that coming of age has nothing to do with the chronological and everything to do with the young person’s abilities and mature attitude.” Fury says archly and Thor raises his arms in defeat.  
“I need to remember that everything I tell you is never forgotten.” Thor laughs. “You are worse than my mother.”  
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Fury and Thor walk off to talk shop and Natasha obviously wants to follow them so you take back your knife and head to the kitchen.  
“You go, I’ll get some lunch for Darcy.” You say over your shoulder and she smiles gratefully.  
“We’ll call you when everything starts.”  
“Cool.” You put the knife back in the sheath and start going through the cupboards. Some of the cupboards are too high and you call over one of the guards to help you out. You try to ignore the gun which she has on a sling over her shoulder. It’s big and black – some sort of automatic machinegun. It clunks against the kitchen side as she reaches up for a can of chicken soup.

“You expecting trouble?” You ask as casually as you can as you find the opener in the drawer.  
“We’re just making sure.” She says. You struggle getting the can started and she takes it off you piercing the can and turning the handle easily.  
“Thanks.”  
“No problem.”  
“What are you expecting?”  
“Well Black Widow and Director Fury are here and at the moment they each have a full protection detail.”  
“Uh-huh.” You take the open can off her and pour the soup into a bowl.  
“And apparently the last time the two Asgardian brothers met, Loki threatened Thor’s friends.” She notices you wince at the use of the God-King’s name. “So we’re making sure that this isn’t a diversion to make good on it.”  
“So Thor’s leaving?” You put the bowl in the microwave and twist the timer. You watch the soup turning on the glass plate, the Tesseract starts to hum along with the microwave. It feels both weird and comforting.  
“No. We thought about putting him where we think Loki’s going, but…” She shrugs. “We doubt he’ll actually be there and it would be a waste of resources.”

“How long would it take for him to get to America?” You push off the counter and head for the fridge.  
“Using his hammer?” She asks and you nod. “Around five hours.”  
“So he wouldn’t get there in time anyway.” You say, opening the fridge door and crouching to get the cake out. She gives you a strange look.  
“How much do you know?” She asks.  
“Enough.” You put the cake on the side and cut a large slice. “I keep my ears open, y’know?”  
“And what did you hear?” She asks. She isn’t threatening, but you eye the gun uncertainly.  
You ask the Tesseract if there is any of it’s residue in the gun or bullets. It concentrates for a minute and then comes up in the negative. It does however assure you that, if you allowed it to do so, it could get its force field up faster than she could reach and fire her gun. Then you could press your palm to her and it could suck out her energy like the cream from a Twinkie.

You start at the comparison – how on the heck did it know that cultural reference? Then it hits you and the Tesseract starts laughing. It really had come *that* close to taking you apart piece by piece. Only the collar stopped it from finishing its work. You shudder and the Tesseract purrs.

“Hey, kid?” The soldier waves her hand in front of your eyes and you look at her with a start. “You were way gone just then.”  
You glance at the gun slung over her arm and she shakes her head, smiling.  
“Don’t worry, kid. I’m not going to shoot you. Just interested is all.” She looks you up and down. “You really are flightly, aren’t you? They weren’t joking.”  
“I’m alright.” You say defensively. “Pass me a plate will you?”  
She turns and finds one and gives it to you. She watches you carefully catch the cake slice along the length of the kitchen knife and lift it onto the plate.  
“Neat.” She says and you shrug. You look at her carefully in her blue SHIELD armoured jumpsuit and her two side arms as well as the machine gun, one on her hip, one on her ankle. You decide a little information sharing probably won’t hurt and might build a few bridges. 

“I know that the God-King Loki is closing in on one of America’s nuclear arsenals. I know that you all know it and that the nukes probably aren’t there anymore. But the God-King’s going there anyway. I don’t know why, so don’t ask me. I only know the nuke thing from your side.”  
“You been in contact with him?”  
“No.” The microwave pings and you walk back over. “Not since he handed me over to Thor and I ended up here.” You touch the bowl and hiss at the heat. “You got some gloves?”  
“They’re hung up on the oven.” She points and you go and get them. You pull a tray from the drying rack and start to construct the meal, placing the soup and cake side by side.  
“You mind going over and asking Jane how Darcy likes her coffee?” You ask. “I’m guessing she’s far too into the science to notice me.”  
“Sure.” 

You take a breath while she goes to sort it out for you. In truth you’ve been alone too long, the sudden rush and crowding around you is unnerving. You feel out of place. You clutch the worktable, feeling the chipping formica under your fingers and take another couple of deep breaths. Strangely, you find yourself longing for your patch of carpet outside of the God-King’s bedroom. It was quiet there and fairly safe. Once you were resting no one would bother you unless they needed you to do something. And there were only ever a few people around, you could see the danger, feel it coming. Here, surround by guns and military the danger is clear and present and yet could come from any direction. You long to run, to flee out into the snow, to stare up at the clear blue sky and breathe and breathe and breathe until you’re gasping and hyperventilating. Instead, you close your eyes tightly, take another, hard inhalation through your nose and out of your mouth and prepare yourself for the day ahead. You have to keep it together. You have to survive.  
“You okay?” The soldier asks and you turn to her with a smile on your face.  
“Sure.” You say. “You got the recipe?”  
“Yep.” She says and reaches for the Java Lava. “We start with this.”  
“Lead the way.” You gesture for her to continue. “I’ll watch and learn.” 

*

“So, what’s up?” Darcy asks as you walk into her room with a tray.  
“I have cake. You made it for me last night. I brought you a slice.” You kick the door closed with the heel of your boot and walk up beside the bed. The Darcy illusion is sat up, looking pale and drawn and has a book on her lap on the sheets. On the desk is a glass filled with a yellow liquid that has thick, swirling parts in it. You avoid looking at and head for the chair by the headboard.  
“Sweet.” Darcy grins and you look at her uneasily. It’s weird seeing Darcy as Darcy and yet knowing it isn’t her at all, hearing the God-King’s edge in her voice.  
“It must be good to get extra cake. You need it, you’re nothing but skin and bones. Does no one feed you anymore?” She asks as you sit down and take a careful mouthful of soup to gauge the heat. It burns your tongue and you grimace as you put the spoon back in the bowl.  
“Hey, I’m still growing.” You start to rip up the bread while you wait for it to cool. “It’s all just going into the bones and wiring at the minute. I’ll fill out again soon.” 

“You gonna talk and eat?” Darcy asks, wrinkling her nose in annoyance.  
“You mind?” You ask. “I mean, I’m meant to chat while you eat and then bring the plates out to the kitchen. I’m on the clock here.”  
“Really? What’s going on?”  
“You know what’s going on.” You shake your head and pop the first piece of soup covered bread in your mouth. “Probably better than I do.”  
“Pretend I don’t.” Darcy winks. “Humour me.”  
“Well, Fury’s here, with an entourage, to watch the God-King Loki’s attack on the missile base. They think it might be a trick so they’ve come here to make sure he doesn’t go after Jane and Darcy, even though…. well…” You shake your head at the confusion of that statement and return to firmer ground. “Thor thinks it might be a feint so that the God-King can get his revenge. He’s still knotted up with the idea that he’s here on Earth because he wants to get back at him.”  
“Well, he’s going to be in for a surprise.” Darcy nods.  
“That’s my thought too.” 

“Where’d you get the knives?” Darcy asks while you eat. You still can’t fully break the habit of not talking while eating, especially in the God-King’s presence. Breaking the rules in front of him is a sure way to rack up some punishment later on.  
“A birthday present from Jane and Thor.”  
“Can I see them?” She asks and you look at her reluctantly.  
Then you nod.  
“Sure.” You pull one from the scabbard and she gestures so it floats in front of her eyes.  
“Pretty. Good and sharp, nice balance.” She looks at them in surprised appreciation. “Asgardian?”  
“Yeah. They were meant for Jane. Can I keep them?” You ask. “Or do you want me to lose them before I get to New York?”  
Darcy considers, making the blade spin slowly in the air.  
“You may keep them.” She says finally. “You need a real set to train with and these are better than anything you will find on this mud ball.”  
“Not as good as the first knife the God-King gave me.” You say and she looks at you with a sardonic smile.  
“Really, Child.” And the voice is hers but the tone is completely his. “That was a pathetic way to try and gain my favour.”  
“Sorry.” You shrug. “I just want out, y’know?”  
“I know.” She nods. “Take each blade in your right hand and search them for electrical devices.”  
“What?”  
“Just do it.”  
You rest each blade against the circle on your palm and listen intently. Again you feel the faint magical vibration, but that is all.  
“Nothing.” You say.  
“Hmmmm… It would have been a bit obvious. Check the scabbard.” 

She watches you unsling it and run your palm over the leather. You stop at a single silver stud.  
“That’s weird.”  
“What is it?”  
You close your eyes and concentrate.  
“Feels like a radio signal. But it’s not active yet.”  
“A listening device?”  
“Hmmmmm… Yeah, possibly a tracker…” You bite your bottom lip. “It’s hard to be sure, they’re both frequency based and, uhm, there isn’t enough here for the device to tell me. If it was connected, it might be able to talk back, but…” You shake your head. “Right now it’s just a receiver, nothing more.”  
“Check the rest.”  
You do and the search comes up clear.  
“Shall I break it?” You ask. “A quick electrical charge from your bulb should do it, it’s pretty simple.”  
“No. Just keep an eye on it. Tell me when they do activate it.”  
“Okay.” You put the harness back on and sheathe your knives.

“So, what you reading?” You ask glancing at the book. “Wait, her diary? Really?”  
“It’s quite interesting, actually.” The illusion smiles. “And I read everything else first. She doesn’t have much here, but most of it was fascinating.”  
“You read everything?” You glance at the whole shelf of academic political science books on the shelf above the bed.  
“Well, skimmed. It was a slow morning for me. But the bits I didn’t know were illuminating.” She gestures with her hand and the page of the diary turns by itself. “Her diary has a great deal more insight. Jane, Thor, me.” She grins. “Apparently Thor has spilled all of his terrible, weighty thoughts to these two mortals. And she has an almost embarrassing obsession about me.”  
“She likes your work.” You say.  
“So I gather. And she’s clever. I’m guessing that Thor and Jane don’t listen to her that closely?”  
“I don’t know. But Jane’s the one doing the work and the research, Darcy seems to just be around to make coffee and keep everything ticking over. She asks good questions though and she listened to me and translated for Jane. I couldn’t quite explain the whole Tesseract in the head thing. I didn’t have the words.” You shrug.  
“And Darcy did?”  
“Or at least in an order Jane understood.”  
“Do you think this might be a problem now that your translator is gone?”  
“No. I think we’ll work something out.”  
The illusion nods. 

“Darcy’s extremely good at second guessing my motives. She’s been correct in these pages a few times already. She even figured out I might take a few cities hostage rather than integrate them. Luckily she didn’t have a clue how I might go about it or which ones I would settle for.” The page turns again. “I can definitely make use of her.”  
“I’m glad.”  
“So is Selvig.” The illusion smiles. “When he saw Darcy he dropped on his knees and kissed my feet. Begged me not to hurt her, he was so desperate he switched to Swedish. I think he lost English entirely in his drive to get his point across.” She frowns. “I think I may have been too hard on Selvig when I took over his mind that first time.”  
“You think?” You say sarcastically.  
“Hmmmmm… I do. I hadn’t refined the process back then, it was all new to me. And I was pressed for time. Barton was stronger, he was used to following orders without question, so he was able to protect part of himself from me. But I think I subsumed Selvig completely.”  
The illusion drums her fingers on her leg.

“Well, we live and learn. Now I control with a much softer touch. The mortals I now own with the Sceptre should retain their sense of self and only have residual trauma from being an extension of my desires. Their minds should still be intact if they ever earn their release from my service.”  
“Earn?”  
“Oh yes. Every one of them has their individual agreement with me. Every one agreed to give me their will in exchange for something that matters to them. By taking a willing, loyal subject I lower the chance of destroying their mind and raise the chance of them coming through relatively unscathed.” She smiles at you. “I try to only be a monster when I have to be.”  
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” You say and start cutting up the cake with your fork. The illusion chuckles.  
“Your faith in me is inspiring.” She says dryly.  
“Loyal, not stupid, that’s me.” You say as you start to eat.  
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” The illusion watches you eat. “Do I make a good cake?”  
“Very good.” You nod.  
“I’ll have to get me to make one.” She grins. “All the good dessert chefs apparently died in the Battle.”  
“War can be a terrible thing.” You agree gravely.

“You’re in a better mood today.” Darcy says.  
“Not really. I’m just… I don’t know? Feeling more secure?”  
“How so?”  
“The presents helped and well, I know they want me here. Thor’s practically offering to be my uncle or something. He even went out of his way to train with me today.”  
“How did it go?”  
“Ground. Face.” You show him the bruise where you hit. “He forgot for a moment, shoved me right across the clearing.”  
“We don’t tend to pull our punches in Asgard.” The illusion tells you. “You should be grateful he didn’t crack half your ribcage.”  
“I know. I am.” You finish the cake with a sigh of contentment. “And I feel bad stringing him along, giving him hope that I might change my mind. That I might stay. But it’s what he wants.”  
“And you want to keep him happy.”  
“Exactly.” You nod.  
You try the coffee and make a face. Too strong and too sweet. You put it back on the tray and gather the cake crumbs instead. 

“Show me what you talked about.” And you feel the God-King’s mind pressing against your shields.  
“Uhm… I’d rather not.” You say.  
“Why? What did you talk about?”  
“A lot. About Asgard, about him, about you. I’m still processing it. When you take the memories I’d like to ask you a few questions, but I don’t know what they are yet. So can we hold off for a few days?”  
“Very well, a few days.” The illusion nods. “But no longer.”  
“Thank you.”  
“And if it turns out you’re hiding something from me…”  
“Please. I like having my brain the way it is.” You sigh. “We know each other well enough now that you don’t need to threaten me.”  
“No. I suppose not.” Darcy turns another diary page. “It’s just a habit.”  
“I guess you threaten a lot of people, sat on your great throne at the Empire State.”  
“Nearly every day. But some days are nicer than others.”

“Do you enjoy it? That part of being king I mean. The boring part with the meetings and the proclamations and stuff?”  
“I like it better than all the rest. It’s what being a king is all about. Anyone can fight in the exercise yard all day and carouse all evening, boasting all the while. It takes a well-trained mind to make sure your subjects get everything they need, but not everything they desire.”  
“So it’s like a mental exercise.”  
“Every day. So, yes, I do enjoy it.”  
“I’m guessing that’s pretty rare for kings. Most stories are about how much the responsibility weighs you down and how terrible it is.”  
“I can have anyone I wished killed with a gesture. I can bed anyone I desire. I get the best food, the best wine, the best rooms.” The illusion sighs heavily. “It’s all so very terrible.”  
She gestures and the page turns again.  
“I think it’s time you left. The God-King will be at the silo base in less than half an hour.”  
“He will?”  
“By my best estimation, yes.” She smiles. “I wouldn’t want you to miss the show.”

*

The atmosphere in the main room has dropped by a few degrees as you walk out of the bedroom. The television is on, but you can’t see it because it’s surrounded by anxious faces. Thor, Natasha and the Director among them. They’re muttering to themselves, but it’s more a low hum of mixed voices and you can’t make out the words. Filo’s watching with a detached amusement, he’s still treating all this as one big joke and the soldiers have quietly taken up positions at all the entrances and exits. You pass two stationed at Darcy’s door as you head for the kitchen. You pour the coffee down the sink and wash all the dishes. The female soldier who helped you is off near Jane, guarding the scientists and you nod at her as you walk past towards the television screen. She nods back gravely.

“So what’s going on?” You ask the wall of backs and Thor glances down at you. He makes room and you push in beside him, accepting his close proximity as a fair price to pay. He drapes an arm around your shoulders in a comforting gesture and you accept it as offered. You look up and smile at him and he nods in return.  
“What I don’t get is how he just appeared five miles out from the silo.” The Director’s saying. “And if he can just appear like that, why the hell is he walking the rest of the way?”  
“Loki knows the secret paths of Yggdrasil.” Thor says simply.  
“Your World Tree?”  
“Yes.” Thor nods. “The Bifrost harnesses the well-known pathways, the well-trodden thoroughfares. Many can cross at once using the Bifrost. But Loki knows the smaller ways, where only a few may cross at once. They are harder to find, more hidden.”  
“So there’s one of these hidden pathways, five miles from our silo?”  
“It appears so, yes.”  
“Who’s with him?”  
“The Captain and Hawkeye.” Natasha chips in.  
“That’s it?”  
“That’s all the satellite is picking up.” She confirms after a moment of tapping on her Stark Pad.  
“Then this might be more straight forward than we thought.” The Director cups his chin in his hand, his eyes not wavering from the screen. “Everything in place?”  
“Yes, Director.”  
“Then I guess we wait and see.” 

You watch the displayed satellite link-up on the screen with everyone else. It’s zoomed in on the five miles between the God-King and the silo. The terrain is completely flat for miles, it isn’t hard to pick up the three figures walking forward. Hawkeye is dressed as he was the day of the Battle, in his close-fitting black armour with his arm’s uncovered. He’s carrying his bow and has a fully stocked quiver of arrows. The Captain is dressed in his leathers, his hair has fully grown out of his crew cut now and is slicked back to show his forehead, like the God-King wears it. His blues eyes flicker as he walks, taking everything in. The God-King is all show. Full armour, helm and sceptre held high in his grasp. Something doesn’t chime right, but you don’t know what it is.  
“How long until they arrive at site?”  
“Twenty minutes at their present rate, Director.” A female voice tells him from the television. You guess it must be someone watching from the Carrier. “They’re moving at quite a pace, even if they seem to be taking their time.”  
“They real?”  
“Yes, Director. I’ve got them showing both heat signals and solid sonar imaging.”  
“That’s good. Don’t want to waste the show on a bunch of holograms.”  
“Copy that, sir.” 

They reach roughly four hundred feet or so out from their objective when both Hawkeye and the God-King stop. The Captain breaks into a sprint towards the silo.  
“In coming!” The voice from the screen shouts and you watch as the chatter of gun-fire makes lines towards the Captain. He jinks and dances to dodge the bullets, holding his shield to protect his body as he covers the distance in record time. It isn’t long before you start hearing soldier chatter on the radio. And the first cut off screams.  
“Wait. What’s Loki doing?” Jane says suddenly and the image, that was about to pan away to follow the Captain, instead refocuses on the God-King. He has a large blue jewel in his hand and he’s caressing and talking to it. He casts it on the floor and as it hits the ground it flashes with eye-hurting intensity. Then the light stabilises, makes a large oval about twenty feet across and opens into a passageway.  
“Shit, it’s another Tesseract corridor!” The Director starts cursing.  
“Maria, can you get readouts on that thing?” Jane asks and within seconds the bottom left of the screen is filled with numbers and running graphs of what the satellite is picking up. “How is he doing it?” Jane mutters and runs off to get a pad and a pen. Before she’s back at the screen she’s scribbling furiously with several other scientists in tow.  
The Tesseract inside you whispers in your ear.  
“It leads back to New York.” You say quietly. “He’s bringing reinforcements.”  
“How do you know?” Thor asks and you shrug.  
“The Tesseract is connected, no matter how far the pieces are apart. The piece in my wires knows, because the rest of it does.”  
“Fascinating.” Jane mutters and makes a quick note on the corner of her paper. “So you’re saying that Loki has to physically go to the place where he wants the bridge to open?”  
“Yeah. There has to be a piece of the Tesseract at both ends.”  
“Well that offers more problems than it answers.” Janes sighs. “Never mind, thank you.”  
“No problem.” 

“Silo. Report.” The Director says.  
“The Cap’s breeched the first wall, Director. But now he’s in the corridors we’ve got him pinned down. But we can’t get close yet.”  
“He’s the distraction. Focus your fire power on the other two. They’re calling in reinforcements.”  
“Too late.” Natasha says as the first wave of combatants starts to come through the portal. They’re dressed in Kevlar from head to foot and have the HYDRA type face masks, but the blue glow in their eyes is so strong you can see it through the dark visors. They start to move steadily forward, their guns barking periodically as they converge on where the Captain has punched a hole through the defences. The second thing to come through is a heavily modified Chitauri sled. Hawkeye jumps into the passenger side and it starts to rise to give him elevation. Once he’s thirty feet up he starts lining up shots into the silo. You can hear the explosions where his arrows hit, punching extra ways into the complex and killing a handful of soldiers at a time. Their death screams fill the chatter and then cut off abruptly. 

“Is the final solution ready?” The Director asks and gets an affirmative.  
“Final solution?” Thor asks, frowning.  
“We have one active nuke in the centre of the facility. They breach the wall into that room and the nuke goes off, wiping everything off the map in a ten-mile radius. This is an endgame solution, to take out Loki, if we can’t capture him.”  
“You plan to kill my brother?” Thor doesn’t sound happy about it. You shift uncomfortably under his arm.  
“Whatever it takes to end this.”  
“But you planned to capture him. We talked about it at length. We agreed that he must face Asgardian justice.”  
“We have a fleet of Quinjets twenty miles out from ground zero. They were meant to surround your brother and take him down. But this portal makes that plan obsolete. If he can just leave, then there’s nothing we can do. But he is close enough to ground zero to be instantly vaporised. No chance of escape.” The Director sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “We didn’t know he could open other portals using the Tesseract. He hasn’t done this before, not in the whole of the war. We figured that it was something his space friends had at the other side that got him here in the first place. It’s a complete game changer.” The Director sighs. “So we’re gonna have to fall back to plan B, which is wipe him off the face of the map. If he can do this to other places, we are screwed.”  
“No, you can’t…” Thor snarls and you give a small whimper. He looks down at you and the moment of his anger fades. He squeezes you shoulder reassuringly. “Easy, little one. I am sorry.”  
“Thor…” Jane sighs. “I know you love your brother, but it’s the whole world at stake here. I don’t like this any more than you do, but once he’s gone we can get to Erik and free him. With the stuff the kid’s already given us I think I can punch a hole in the New York force field. I’m not a hundred percent yet, but it’s definitely in the works.”  
“We can free Selvig? Save Stark?”  
“Yes.” Jane agrees and Thor sighs.  
“It would be a heavy price to pay…” He says reluctantly.  
“Welcome to war.” The Director answers bluntly. “How far in have they got?”  
“The first room of missiles. As we expected they’re stopping to check them all. You want to send in reinforcements, Director?”  
“Send in four Quinjets and drop the troops off. We want this to look convincing.”  
“Understood, Director.”

You move out from under Thor’s arm and go to Natasha instead. Thor lets you go without a word and she ruffles your hair and lets you stand in front of her. You watch the Quinjets come in. Hawkeye takes one out before it lands, it burns through the sky, the bodies falling to the earth like broken parts of the aircraft. But the other three get in and disgorge the troops. Half head to help the silo, the others to attack the portal. The God-King sees them coming and raises the Sceptre, then thinks twice about it. He gestures and the Sceptre disappears and in its place he has a pair of long daggers. He walks forward to meet the troops with a bright, eager smile on his face. When they are ten feet away he leaps, an impossible jump for anyone mortal and lands in the middle of the group. Then he gets to work. 

Jane looks away and Natasha grips your shoulders, but you watch without flinching. He’s fast, faster than he was with Alec, Son of William. His movements graceful and lithe as he finds the gaps in the armour and takes advantage. His reflexes are impossible to follow, one soldier raises his gun and the God-King has the weapon flicking away into the sky and the man on the ground, nursing multiple arm fractures before you even take a breath. He’s not killing them all, you realise suddenly, but incapacitating most of them. Once he’s finished and the soldiers are all down, the daggers disappear in preference for the Sceptre. He moves to his first victim, pushing them onto their back with his foot and pinning their arm as he presses the tip against their chest.  
The Director starts cursing.  
“He’s taking hostages.” He snarls as the next wave of troops come through and a group stop at the portal to start carrying the newly turned soldiers back through to New York. The rest head to reinforce the silo and trap the Quinjet arrivals between them and those already inside.  
“We need to start pulling back, Director, we’ve lost this.” The voice from the screen tells him and the Director nods.  
“Get ready to detonate the nuke.” He says, his voice heavy.

“Wait!” Jane shouts and you see what she’s seen almost immediately. It’s not just troops coming through the portal now, but civilians. They aren’t taken over by the Sceptre and they’re shifting and moving at the prod of gun barrels in their ribs. Their eyes are wide with fear.  
“I’m sorry, Miss Foster. But we can’t let a few civilian casualties distract us from the bigger picture.” The Director snaps.  
“No, you don’t understand… Is that… Is that… Darcy?”  
You see her too, in the middle of the civilians. The entire room goes quiet as the God-King walks forward and pulls her out of the throng. He makes her kneel in the grass and then goes back to taking over the soldiers. Apart from the bruise on her cheek, she looks unharmed, but she’s shaking with terror. She’s also shouting something.  
“Can you get her online?” The Director asks and suddenly Darcy’s voice is on the speaker.  
“Majesty, you don’t have to do this. We can work something out. You want the kid, I want to go home, we can sort out a trade. No one else has to die.”  
The God-King is ignoring her. He continues with his work, but he’s smiling as he listens to her pleading.  
“Then who’s in the bedroom?” Natasha asks and Filo starts to laugh. The guards go into Darcy’s room and there’s the sound of gun fire.

“Converge on the bedroom!” The Director orders and half the troops start to move, but Thor beats them to it. When he’s two feet from the door the God-King’s Illusion steps out to meet him.  
“Good to see you again, brother.” He says politely as the soldiers come out of the room behind him, unharmed, but looking confused.  
“How did you get Darcy?” Thor snarls.  
“Last night.”  
“How?”  
“Oh, brother, really, do I have to tell you everything?” The hologram starts to walk toward the television and everyone moves unconsciously to make room for him.  
“Do we have confirmation that the real Darcy is at the silo sight?” The Director asks and above the readouts from the portal another small screen pops up with several different pictures of the kneeling Darcy. Heat signature, sonar, the works. All come up as a positive identification.  
“Shit.” The Director sighs.  
“Ready to give up your pet, brother? Ready to watch her get immolated with the rest of us?” The hologram smiles. “I’m not interested in your nuclear weapon, Director. The one in the central chamber of the building. You can keep it.”  
“Then what’s this all about?”  
The hologram nods to the screen and you see the missiles, the empty ones being taken through the portal.  
“I needed working delivery systems, not the armament on their tip. Thank you for providing them for me.” He smiles. “And the hostages are an added bonus.” 

“You did all this for working missiles?” The Director sounds unconvinced.  
“Well I needed them. We have a shortage of parts, not even Stark could make many with what we salvaged from your military installations. You were so very thorough in destroying anything I overran, Director. But here you had to try to trick me into believing the silo was still operating, so you had working missiles, ready and waiting for me.”  
“Loki…” Thor grates out and the God-King turns to look at him.  
“I propose a trade, dear brother. A pet for a pet. How does that sound?” He looks down at you and smiles. You shiver away from him and he sighs softly in disapproval.  
“No way.” The Director says.  
“I thought you’d say that, so I’ve decided to up the stakes.”  
“Director, we’re losing the feed…” Natasha says as the same time as the voice on the screen does. The images shivers and shakes and then focuses again.  
“What just happened?” The Director demands. “Maria? Agent Hill, answer me.”  
“She can’t hear you. I’ve just cut her out.” The hologram says.  
“But how?” He asks and you all turn back to the screen as another figure appears, shimmering into focus just offside from where Darcy is kneeling. 

He’s sat on the grass cross-legged, a laptop on his knees, typing furiously. He’s wearing jeans and a ripped Slayer t-shirt and his eyes are focused on the computer in front of him.

“I brought three people with me, not two. But I kept Stark hidden from you until now.” The hologram smiles. “I believe he has just hacked your satellite, Director.” The God-King laughs. “I’ve wanted one of my very own since I got here. But it’s so very hard to pin them down, to predict when they will be overhead and active…”  
“So you made a situation where you knew one would be watching.” The Director’s voice is bleak.  
“Don’t blame him Director. He’s immune to the Sceptre, but has his own set of weaknesses. I’ve had a long time to work on him.”  
“Well at least I know he’s alive…”  
“Yes, well, about that.”  
The God-King on the screen walks over to him and they have a quick conversation. Mr Stark points out several things on the laptop and the God-King smiles, typing a few things in himself. The satellite moves several feet to the west and the God-King nods. Then he takes the laptop off Mr Stark and makes the man stand up. He leads him forward into a clear part of the area, away from Darcy and the portal where the hostages are still being taken away. Mr Stark looks bemused, but does as he’s told. When they are far enough away, the God-King presses his fingers to Mr Stark’s arc reactor, makes a gesture and clicks his fingers. 

“No!” You start forward, but Natasha catches you. You turn to the hologram. “No, don’t, please don’t!”  
The hologram smiles at you with a mixture of contempt and pity.  
“It’s already done.” He tells you simply.  
Mr Stark’s body is thrown backwards by the force of the grenade activated inside of him. He hits the grass and for one desperate moment tries to get the arc reactor out of his chest. His movements are stilted and clumsy in his complete panic. Then he starts to cough up blood.  
“No!” You wail, your legs turn to jelly and you fall to the floor, sobbing. “No, no, no…”  
“What’s happening?” The Director demands. “What are you doing to him?”  
“Watch, Director. Just watch.” The hologram tells him.  
Mr Stark starts crawling backwards, he brings up more blood. Once again, he reaches for the arc reactor, but his movements are already starting to grow slow and useless. He doesn’t seem to have the strength to pull the device free. Then the first wave of the bomb pushes its way out of his side and Mr Stark screams, spraying red droplets everywhere. His body spasms, but he’s still alive, still crawling and then two more arcs of the grenade punch their way out of his back and he goes still. You watch through tear-smeared eyes as the grenade starts to eat his entire chest away.  
“Dark Elf technology.” Thor says, his voice disbelieving. “They had grenades like that…”  
“Research is a glorious thing.” The hologram says and Thor turns on it in rage. His hammer goes through it and it disappears in a flash of golden light. 

“Really, brother.” The hologram appears behind him. “Such a temper…”  
Thor tries to dispel him a few times, but the God-King just keeps appearing. Thor levels his hammer at the hologram and you hear the thunder rumbling in the sky.  
“That’s it, tear your world apart in a moment of brutish rage.” The hologram goads him. “Entertain me, brother.”  
“Thor.” Jane touches his arm. “He wants to tell us something, or he would have just gone.”  
“She’s a clever one, your mortal. You should listen to her.” The hologram smiles.  
“What do you want, Loki?” Thor asks him, barely keeping his anger in check.  
“Same as before. My child and a few other assorted things. I’ll send you a list. In return you get Darcy back and the hostages and the information we agreed. Oh…” The God-King grins wide. “And I’ll stop using the satellite to data-mine your information hub and I promise not to take over the Carrier’s subroutines and make it fall from the sky.”  
“Loki…”  
“You brought this on yourself. All of you. We had an agreement, a solid agreement, but you went back on you word. Now you pay the price.” The hologram nods to the screen, to Mr Stark’s still body on the ground. The grenade has left a small crater in the earth and cut him completely in half. “And that is what I think of you wanting to see Tony Stark alive.” He sneers at them. “His use to me is over, I might have given him back, but you had to push me. However, if Miss Potts wants to visit New York to talk to me about his will and testament. She will be given safe passage. You have my word as a Prince of Asgard, since you will not take my word as King.”  
“How can we trust you?” Thor demands and the God-King sighs.  
“Trust my ability to be civil. I find this war as wearing as you do and I did not wish to kill Tony Stark. Out of respect for him, for his talents and what he helped me achieve, I will not harm the woman he loved. Any more than I will harm your mortal while she is in my care.”  
He looks around the room one more time.  
“You have twenty four hours, Director. After that I want my child on a plane to New York, or I start killing hostages.”  
Then the hologram disappears. 

Everything goes quiet after the God-King leaves. The only sound are your sobs as you cry your heart out. Mr Stark is dead. He killed him, because of them, because of you. Natasha tries to comfort you, but you pull away. There’s no comfort anyone can give you right now. You don’t think you’ll ever stop crying. The screen is still active, showing the hostages being taken away and the missiles being loaded up. Hawkeye and the Captain go through with the remains of Mr Stark, followed closely by the civilians and Darcy. The God-King is the last one to leave. He looks up directly to where the satellite feed looks down and gives a jaunty salute, then he picks up the crystal and the portal vanishes. He walks off to his secret passage back to New York and the screen goes blank. 

“Well that’s that.” The Director sighs. “One massive FUBAR from start to finish.”  
“What I don’t understand is how he managed to get Darcy…” Jane says and suddenly all the attention in the room is focused on you and Filo.  
“Strip them.” The Director commands, his voice curt. “And search their rooms.”  
You get up from the floor, still hiccupping sobs and start to take off your clothes without comment. You give the harness with the daggers to Natasha. She takes them and hangs them off her shoulder while she waits for you to finish. Soldiers go into your room and you glance that way nervously.  
“Got anything to hide?” The Director asks.  
“Please don’t damage my boat.” You say in return. “I worked hard on it.”  
“Anything in it other than what makes it tick?” The Director asks and you look at him.  
“No.” You say truthfully. “X-ray it or whatever you want, but don’t destroy it, please.”  
“Okay.” He nods. “We’ll see.”

Filo’s doesn’t fight either, but he isn’t as accommodating about stripping down. He makes them work for it and it takes a few minutes for them to find the tiny Stark Pad. The soldiers hand it over to the Director.  
“What’s this?” He asks, turning it over and over in his hands.  
“The God-King gave it me, last night.” Filo shrugs. “We met in the circle of trees by the cliff. Darcy wasn’t part of the plan, but she followed me. So the Asgardian took her prisoner.”  
“There’s a secret path? Here?” Thor demands and Filo shrugs again. You’re impressed by how calm he is.  
“He didn’t tell me how he got here. I didn’t ask. He gave me the camera and instructions, took Darcy and left.”  
“How did he get in contact?”  
“A note left on my bed, under the pillow. The ash of the paper should still be on my desk.” Filo smiles guilelessly.  
“You expect me to believe that Loki was here and he didn’t try anything more than that?” The Director raises an eyebrow.  
“He wanted Miss Foster’s research and pictures of the layout of the area. I’ve already taken all the pictures he wanted. They were probably downloaded into the satellite he just took from you.”  
“Shit.” The Director says while breathing out.  
“He said he could have ended it there and then, but wanted to give you the show.” Filo laughs. “I think he likes the drama.”  
Thor steps forward and lifts Filo off his feet, his hammer ready in his other hand.  
“I think it’s time we ended this rat among us.” He growls and Filo closes his eyes serenely, waiting for the end. Thor presses him against the wall and no one steps in to stop him. You want to call out, but you don’t want that sort of attention on you. You watch Thor raise his hammer to strike and you feel like a coward.

“Director. We’ve found something.” The soldiers call from your room and you wince. Shit, you just put the stone and the brooch under your pillow. Great hiding technique there.  
“Thor. Wait a moment.” The Director says and the Prince nods, his gaze still on Filo. The soldiers come out with your belongings and the Director plays with them as he did with the Stark Pad.  
“So, care to explain?” He asks you squarely and you sigh and look down at your feet.  
“I gave them the brooch.” Filo says quietly.  
“It was my mother’s.” You say softly.  
“I made contact with the God-King a few days after I got my assignment to watch the child at the fortress.” Filo continues the narrative. “I agreed to care for them in return for the God-King taking me on if things went wrong. Two days before the escape a double agent in HYDRA gave me the brooch to give to the child. As proof I was on their side during the escape from Sokovia.”  
“She used to wear it on her lapel. Everyday. There are scavengers in New York, people that wear large yellow badges to show the Chitauri they’re allowed to be out and about. They bring anything good they find to the God-King. They must have found it when they reached Howard Apartments…” You look at the Director pleadingly. “Please could I have it back?”  
“We’ll see.” The Director says. He lifts the stone. “And this?”  
“The God-King told me to grab a pebble when I was kneeling outside the Quinjet. When…” You take a deep breath and look at the Crown Prince. “…when I tried to escape and Thor came after me…” It’s easy to lie, your grief over Mr Stark’s death is so raw on your face that they won’t be able to be sure of any other emotion you’re feeling. “This morning it was next to the boat, where I left it, and it had the design on it. I figured the God-King had come when I was asleep as a hologram and drawn it. He didn’t wake me up.”  
“I stole it from the child’s room and took it to the God-King.” Filo says. “He drew the glyph and then I returned it. The young one was so tired they didn’t wake.”  
“Back in Sokovia, Loki drew a symbol like this one on the kid’s desk.” Nastasha says, walking over to get a better look at the stone. “He did it while he was a hologram.” 

“Let me see.” Thor drops Filo and several of the soldiers train guns on him. Filo nonchalantly raises his arms behind his head. Thor walks over to the Director and looks at the stone. Then he looks at you, incredulous.  
“Loki’s teaching you High Magic?”  
“If that’s what that is, sure.” You say, uncertainly.  
“And you understand it?”  
“Well the one on my desk was a rune for control and that one’s a rune for containment…” You bite your bottom lip. “The God-King said he was going to teach me how to control the Tesseract inside of me, so I guess that’s how I’m going to do it…?” You let the uncertainty in your voice hang in the air.  
“How do you know what this rune does?” Thor asks, his voice fierce and commanding.  
“It kinda… It kinda told me?” You screw up your face trying to work out how to explain. “Uhm, like a taste or a smell or a texture… It just, it just…” You sigh and give up. “I just know, I guess.”  
“Show me.” Thor demands and you shake your head.  
“Uhm. Collar?” You touch it and the Crown Prince scowls at you. You shiver in fear.  
“I’m sorry, but I can’t show you. Not with my power being contained like this.” You shiver again. “Don’t be angry…”  
“I’m not.” Thor sighs. “I’m not. Not at you, anyway. We shall deal with the Traitor Filo and then we shall deal with this.” He looks at you standing in your underwear and sighs. “Go. Get dressed. Get some rest. We will test you later.”  
“Thank you.” You gather your clothes and retreat to your room while the Director, Thor and Natasha go off to have a conversation.  
You glance at Filo as you leave and he winks at you.  
You frown with worry, but he shakes his head, smiling calmly.  
You guess he knows something you don’t. 

Your room is a mess. They’ve tipped over everything and taken your boat. You take the time to right the bed and the mattress, struggling slightly with it. Not heavy, but awkward and with a mind of its own, the mattress gives you a bit of a fight. But you persevere and win. Then you pull the sheets back on and find they’ve ripped open all your pillows and your duvet. There are blankets, pulled out of a bottom drawer and thrown around haphazardly. You gather them, fold one for a pillow and straighten the rest on your bed. You find your rainbow pyjamas after a few minutes of searching and pull them on. Then you crawl into bed, pull the blanket over your head and cry yourself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay bad things happened in this chapter, but this is war kids. 
> 
> Sorry I couldn't put any warning at the beginning, but that would of kinda ruined it. And all I can say is keep reading, please. I am not going to let you down.
> 
> Trust the keyboard monkey. :)
> 
> I'll see you all tomorrow.


	40. Finding Asgard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Now, onto the next stage.” Thor pulls one of your blades from your harness where it sits on the table. “Has Loki introduced you to blood magic?”  
> “Yes, a little.”  
> “I am going to lightly cut your palm, just enough to break the skin and then do the same with mine. Our blood will mingle and my Asgardian strength will add to your mortal ability.”  
> “Okay.” You nod and hold out your left hand. It’s shaking slightly, but Thor catches your wrist and holds it steady. He’s so strong it’s terrifying and you give a small, stunted whimper. Thor catches your eye and holds it a minute.  
> “This will not hurt much, little one. It will heal quickly.” And he scores your hand with the tip of the blade. He lets you go and does the same to his left palm. “Now, hold my hand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this drive is going to be four chapters, not three. I've hit 8k words here and not even reached the plot point I wanted to make. But it explains so much and is so important to the Kid's development that I've kept it all and divided this chapter into two. 
> 
> The next two chapters are going to be spaced and will arrive at some point in the next week. This is a far trickier subject than I thought it would be. I thought it was all organised in my head and on paper, but it is proving to be a far more complex beast than expected. 
> 
> I would apologise for that, but I've just been told off for doing so. So I won't. So there. :P
> 
> Enjoy this next chapter.

*

“Kid?” You look up at Jane at the door. You hadn’t slept long, the memories kept coming back and coming back. Every time you fell asleep you woke again with a jolt maybe half an hour later. 

Mr Stark is dead. What’s the point anymore?

They’ve kept the door open all this time, jammed it open so you couldn’t close it. Privacy time is over. She looks at you apologetically and knocks belatedly on the wood. It looks like she’s been crying.  
“Kid, it’s time. We need you.” She grimaces as if she can’t really believe what’s she’s saying. “We need your help to get in touch with Asgard. Thor thinks you might be able to add the magical component.”  
“Can’t he do it?” You ask sulkily.  
“He never studied High Magic. All his knowledge is around battle. And the two runes Loki taught you? He thinks they could make the jump we need.” Jane smiles softly. “For what’s it’s worth? I don’t believe in magic. It’s just science we haven’t learned yet.”  
“That’s what Mr Stark used to say.” But you get up and walk for the door. “Guess that makes me some genetic freak or something…”  
“Or an evolutionary jump…” Jane says encouragingly and you look at her.  
“I guess.” Then you sigh. “But the God-King says there’s always been people like me. Just not very many.”  
“Maybe Asgard found a way to make the gene more prevalent.”  
“I guess?” You don’t know what prevalent means and she picks up on it immediately.  
“Prevalent means more common.” She explains and you look at the mark on your hand. You think about it for a moment and then you nod curtly in agreement.  
“Asgard can do some pretty weird and intrusive stuff.” You say, feeling vaguely detached from it all. You’re grieving, you think. But everything seems a bit strange and unreal right now.  
“So you’ll help?”  
You look at her, peer out of the door nervously and nod. The God-King said you had to do this, so you will. And you have to admit you’re a little curious as to how this will work.  
“Sure.” 

You follow Jane out into the main room. It feels like a funeral, everyone looks upset to some degree, even the soldiers. It seems Mr Stark had been well liked by everyone.  
“We were…” Jane pauses and takes a deep breath. “We were hoping to get him out. All of us were. Thor never forgave himself that he let Loki trick him into leaving the warzone and now…”  
“He put a grenade in his chest. To make sure he didn’t try anything. Behind the Arc Reactor.” Your voice is blank as you say it. You touch your chest where Mr Stark’s Arc Reactor was, look down at your fingers and carefully move your hand back by your side. “None of us ever thought he’d actually use it…” You don’t want to think about it.  
Jane doesn’t say anything, her face is pale and drawn.  
“There’s going to be a vigil tonight…”  
“I don’t care about your vigil. I want to go back. I want to be there at his funeral.” You say firmly and Jane looks away.  
“You’ll be on a Quinjet in the next twelve hours. I’m sorry we didn’t listen to you.”  
“You thought you were doing the right thing.” You admit, grudgingly. “You wanted to help. I can’t fault you for that. Even after everything.” You take her hand. “You’re a good person, Miss Foster.”  
“Thanks.” She smiles down at you.  
“Can I have my stuff back?”  
“Well the boat’s been checked out and been given the all clear and the brooch and the stone as well. If you do well today, I think we’ll be able to sort it out for you.”  
“And the knives?”  
“Thor is adamant that if you have to go back to Loki then you get to keep them.” Jane smiles wanly. “So don’t worry.”  
“Thanks, Miss Foster.”  
“We’re not giving up on you. Not any of us. We couldn’t save Tony and we have to give you back, but we’re coming, kid. We’re going to save you from him.”  
You nod in agreement.  
“That’s good to know.”

You stop dead when you see Filo. He’s in a chair against the wall, cuffed by his wrists and ankles. He’s been beaten badly but right now he’s sleeping, curled against the back of the chair with his head resting against on his chest. You walk up to him before Jane can stop you and stroke his hair.  
Filo doesn’t wake.  
“He was just trying to protect me.” You say sadly. “He’s messed up, but it’s not his fault, he was raised to be like he is. He never got a choice.”  
“Kid, he’s a traitor to SHIELD.”  
“Screw that, you can only be a traitor if you actually signed up. He was never with SHIELD. Never really with HYDRA. He went against his orders to help me. To get me here.” You feel your lips pulling downwards, but you’ve cried yourself out and the tears won’t come. “He was trying to stop things getting worse.”  
“By stealing my research?”  
“By keeping the God-King happy, by trying to deal with him. He knows what’s the God-King is capable of, we both do. He just wanted to do something right for once. He just wanted to help a kid. Just like you do.” You glare at her defiantly. “You know HYDRA told him to put a bullet in my head if I ever tried to escape? He found out about the attack, he completely tricked me, I thought he was a granddad with a family. I told him I was leaving and I had my back to him and he could have done it, easily. Finished me there and then. But he didn’t. Instead he helped me get out. Without him I might have made it, but the odds were stacked heavily against me. With his knowledge and his back-up, it was a lot easier. I owe him. You owe him.”  
“How?”  
“Well, who else will get you in touch with Asgard?” You turn away and head for the research table. “Come on, let’s get this over with.” 

Thor is at the table, with the Director and Natasha sat off to one side. The scientists are hovering, they’ve made some sort of weird contraption that stands about four feet high and they’re putting it through lots of different tests while others write the results down on clipboards.  
“That’s the frame for a comm unit that will hold the connection steady, so we can keep communication open.” Jane tells you. “In theory.”  
“Powered by the Tesseract inside me?”  
“That’s the plan.” She says and you nod.  
“So I only have to jumpstart it, then you can take over?”  
“Exactly.”  
“I can see how that might work.” You say and Jane smiles at your bluster. It’s obvious you have no idea what the thing is.  
“We took it from the research you gave us. It’ll work, trust me.” She says as she pulls your seat back at the table. There’s a tray of steaming food waiting for you and you lick your lips as your stomach whines.  
“Eat.” Thor says, he’s trying to be jovial, but he’s angry and stressed and the word comes out more like an order than friendly welcome. There’s a plate piled high with pasta and meatballs, a large cup of coffee, two tall glasses of juice and two pieces of cake.  
“I don’t know if I can eat that much.” You say, but pick up the knife and fork gamely.  
“You’ll need it for the magic, every bite.” Thor tells you and you nod.  
“Energy intensive.” You agree and you start to eat. 

“So we know you don’t like talking while you eat. So we’ll brief you instead.” The Director says and you look at him attentively while you shovel.  
“This is Anatase.” The Director lifts up a fairly large cube of a blue metallic stone. “Pure, unflawed. This is what we want you to put the Tesseract in.”  
You nod in agreement.  
“We already have a place in the comm unit we’ve made where it can go and power it all.” Jane tells you as she sits down. “Once it’s in the cube, we can use it like a battery.”  
“I am going to help you visualise the control rune.” Thor says, still trying to keep his voice gentle and encouraging and failing. “Then when you are ready I will take off the collar and you will instantly grasp the Tesseract and bind it to your will. The second the collar is off the Tesseract will try to gain control of you, so we must be ready to stop it.”  
You swallow heavily, but continue eating.  
The Tessearct growls at Thor and laughs at you. It doesn’t think you’ll be quick enough.  
_Fuck you._ You think quietly to yourself. _You’re not having me._

You reach out to where your connection with the God-King usually sits, while pretending to be fully attentive to Thor. The connection isn’t there, but there is a small package ready and waiting for you. 

You open it.

The God-King is sitting on his throne, listening to several people, both men and women in white coats, giving him a briefing on the newly taken missiles. You are looking through his eyes, but you know that this is a memory, not real-time.  
“I don’t often apologise.” He says to you as he listens to the technical talk. “But I feel one is owed. I couldn’t warn you, your reaction had to be completely honest or SHIELD would have harmed you. I told you I had plans lined up, but this was the last one I wanted to implement. They forced my hand. I didn’t want things to go the way they did. I didn’t want to cause you so much grief, I know you loved him. I know he helped you through the worst times and that it was a cruel way to repay you. To repay him. I will make it up to you. I give you my word.”

You feel yourself tearing up again and you take a deep breath and sigh. Thor looks at you strangely but you shrug.  
“Sorry.” You mutter. “It’s been a rough day.” You smile weakly at him and go back to eating. Thor continues with his reassurances and instructions, but you already have an idea of what you’re doing already. You go back to the God-King’s message.

“I can’t be there when you make the connection to Asgard. I am far too busy and if I were there, Thor would know. He’ll be connected to you when you make the attempt and so he will be sensitive to what’s happening. If he sees me he’ll think it a trick, and it isn’t one. In his fragile state I cannot risk him branding you a Traitor, as I am sure he has already done to poor Filo.” You feel the God-King’s regret. “But I can give you a few pointers. Do not envision distance. It will not help and will drain you quickly. Asgard is far, very far from Midgard. So you need to trick your mind instead. The Tesseract can warp space-time, can fold it. Think about folding a sheet of paper over and over again and turning your mind into a blade and pushing a single hole through it. And place this destination picture in your mind’s eye as you do so.”

An image of a golden room, large, palatial. In the centre is a circle of celtic design, drawn in varied lines of coloured powder. The scene cuts and you see it being drawn, Asgardians in robes with bags of powder in one hand and a funnel in the other. They drag the funnel lightly on the ground as the fine sand pours out, keeping the colours in tight formation. A temporary spell, made to be used just once. The finished rune is big, big enough for two people to stand on.  
“That is where my brother and I would have appeared if Thor activated the Tesseract to bring me home as a prisoner. The spell only has the power to be used once, to save the combined power of Asgard. But it is tuned to Midgard, to the Tesseract in a passive way. You should be able to use the Tesseract piece to find it. Heimdall will meet you there. He is the watcher of the Bifrost and the first line of defence for Asgard. He will be sensitive to you. Be very polite to him. He is the one who will decide whether to bring the king or send you on your way...”  
Or kill you. The word hangs unspoken.  
You feel a bitterness when the God-King says the name of the watcher. Heimdall and the God-King are not friends. “Then all you must do is hold the connection until Asgard takes up the strain. They will have means of connecting the Tesseract on both sides of the divide. and once that is achieved they will be able to do the rest.”  
“But they won’t be able to come through, right? They won’t be able to bring an army?” You ask and then curse yourself, this is a recording, he can’t answer you.  
“There is not enough power for them to make a bridge between the worlds. That sliver of Tessearct would not be enough. Just as a flare is not a usable power source. Perhaps that is a bad analogy, but you get the idea. It would be communication only. The power required to make a land bridge would take the whole Tesseract on this side of the divide and well, they don’t have it.” The God-King smiles. “I knew you would ask. I know you too well.” 

You smile faintly and nod at Thor as if you’re still listening.

“I know you can do this, child. I trust you. You have what you need and the creativity to work it out. I have a final gift for you.” And you feel a bubble of energy forming in your mind as the spell he left in the message activates. “Use it once the Tesseract is out of your wiring, or it will devour it. You will need this extra boost when making the containment rune. Making one rune is draining, but making two, when you are still so young and untrained…” He sighs. “I wish I could be there to help you, my student. But circumstance is against us. This is all I can give you.”  
He called you his student. It’s all you can do not to grin widely. Instead you concentrate on finishing the main meal and draining your first glass of juice.  
“Good luck, child.”  
And the message is over.

“Do you understand what I am asking of you?” Thor asks and you nod.  
“Yeah. I think I get it.” You nod, smiling. “I have a good teacher.”  
And Thor smiles in pride. 

*

They wait until you‘ve eaten and taken half an hour or so to digest before proceeding any further. During this time, the Director received information back about the remains of the silo. The God-King really hadn’t touched the nuke, it was where SHIELD had left it in the centre chamber and all the dead had been laid out with their dog tags prominent for ease of burial. There had also been a list of demands pinned to one of the bodies. He and Natasha had disappeared to go and talk on the phone with Agent Hill on the Carrier while you, Thor and Jane sorted out the preliminaries for talking with Asgard. 

“Are you ready?” Thor asks and you nod, taking a deep couple of breaths.  
“Here, let me adjust your collar.” Thor says walking forward.  
“What for?” You ask, suddenly scared.  
“I need to change the parameters so that you can cast magic while the Tesseract remains chained.”  
“You do? You can do that?” You ask, stalling for time while you think wildly.  
“Of course.” Thor beckons you over. “Come here, child. Do not be afraid.”  
You step forward and bite your bottom lip as Thor reaches out to play with the collar.  
“That’s strange.” He says thoughtfully.  
“What is?” You ask as straight as you can.  
“It appears that the parameters are already set that way…” He looks at you. “Who played with your collar, little one?”  
“I don’t know…?” You try, but your voice betrays you.  
“Child.” Thor says firmly and you look away.

“When Filo said he didn’t wake me? Uhm, I just didn’t correct him. But I wasn’t sure if it was a dream or not. The, the God-King was there.”  
“Here, in the building?”  
“It was a hologram. He said...” You’re thinking fast now. “…He said something about not being able to be there physically? About tripping something you put around the building?”  
Thor relaxes slightly.  
“There are magical wards to keep my brother at bay and to warn me of his presence. If he gets inside.” He sighs frowning. “But if he was a hologram… And if he used Filo as an anchor, or if he went through the front door… Which he would be able to do if he stole Darcy’s keys…” He sighs, in annoyance. “We will have to leave here and the next site will be much more heavily guarded. No one in or out, locked and warded to the best of my abilities. Which unfortunately are not up to Loki’s standards…”  
“You underestimated him…” You say and Thor nods.  
“I did. You were right. I shall be more careful in future. Loki has changed drastically since I last knew him. The fall from the Bifrost has changed him, twisted him. He was capable of great atrocities before, but now…” He looks away. “Now he is unhinged. I did not expect him to become quite so mad, quite so ruthless. He was always far more careful than this, he never took risks without protest.” He starts running his hands over the collar, rechecking the parameters. “Even killing Laufrey and aiming the Bifrost at Jotunheim was calculated, with minimum of risk to himself. I’ve never seen him lead before, never seen him take to war so readily. I was always the one who…” Thor shakes his head. “Never mind.”

“He leaned over me, while I was lying in bed… and I was too scared to do anything. He seemed so focused, so ready for war. I’ve seen him when he’s been on a killing high before, back in New York and he used to hurt me… So I, I pretended to sleep. I think he did something to my collar, but…” You shake your head. “I wasn’t sure. I’ve felt so weird this last week or so with the Tesseract and everything. If there was a change, then I didn’t register it.” You look up at him earnestly. “I would have told you.”  
“I know, child, I know.” Thor ruffles your hair. “You are good, in your heart. It’s what gives me hope that Loki will not break you when you go back.” He looks into your eyes, his face earnest. “I wish you did not have to. I wish there were another way.”  
“I know.” And you decide to go for it. You move forward a half step and you hug him. “I know.”  
And you hate yourself for deceiving him as he returns it.

“Now, onto the next stage.” Thor pulls one of your blades from your harness where it sits on the table. “Has Loki introduced you to blood magic?”  
“Yes, a little.”  
“I am going to lightly cut your palm, just enough to break the skin and then do the same with mine. Our blood will mingle and my Asgardian strength will add to your mortal ability.”  
“Okay.” You nod and hold out your left hand. It’s shaking slightly, but Thor catches your wrist and holds it steady. He’s so strong it’s terrifying and you give a small, stunted whimper. Thor catches your eye and holds it a minute.  
“This will not hurt much, little one. It will heal quickly.” And he scores your hand with the tip of the blade. He lets you go and does the same to his left palm. “Now, hold my hand.”  
You reach out and as your blood mingles with his you feel a jolt run through your body. Every cell seems to sing as you feel the connection. Thor whispers a few words of magical intent in a language you don’t understand and the singing grows deeper, broader, an ocean of untapped power. You repeat the words and Thor raises an eyebrow as your magical potential runs into his veins.  
“You have good instincts.”  
“I’ll need to taste it.”  
“Pardon?”  
“I’ll need to taste the mingling blood. It’s how the God-King taught me. It will help me focus.”  
Thor wordlessly lifts his palm from yours and you lick the blood off your fingers. 

You close your eyes as the second surge hits you. Asgardian blood tastes so much different to mortal blood, you can almost separate the molecules on your tongue. You sway a little as the power lifts you and you reach out and take Thor’s hand again, allowing the blood to continue to mingle between the cuts. The Tesseract whines as it feels the new strength inside of you. It hadn’t expected this, blood is not something it understands. The idea of two separate, sentient creatures being able to connect on such a deep level is incompatible with its knowledge of the universe. Sure, it’s in your wires, it could take control of you if it had the chance, but that’s not the same as two souls mixing and forming together, like different paints making a new colour. It won’t last, it can’t last. Asgardian blood is far too rich for your system. You can contain this for a few hours and then the paints have to return to their individual pots again. If that’s possible… No, it has to be possible, you can tell on your tongue which part of you is human, which part is Asgardian. It’s not like paint at all. Your body will be able to filter out the alien mixture, given time. You’re not half Asgardian, any more than he’s half mortal. In a few hours your body will have processed what he’s given you and you’ll be back to normal again.  
A few hours are all you need. 

You nod decisively.  
“Okay, I’m going to start drawing the rune now.” You tell him.  
“I am ready.”  
You pull your hand back to make a space in front of you and Thor takes a respectful step back. You draw on the energy he has given you. It’s so vast you don’t even have to tap into your own reserves, you’re not touching on your own stamina. You start to mutter, visualising the first long curves that encompass the drawing, moving your hands to delineate where the lines will be. The Tesseract screams and starts slamming against the walls of its cage, but you ignore it.  
It can’t hurt you now.  
It can’t hurt you ever again.  
You start to move of your own accord, not drawing the rune with your thoughts, but with your hands in the air in front and around you. It’s like a dance with all the steps laid out. You can see every arc and line, you can bind it where it crosses itself, gluing it together, making the rune stronger, making it a whole physical thing. You can see where it moves out of space and time, where it exists only in the magical part of the world, a hair’s width from the reality you live in. You cross over this soft barrier, pressing and kneading and pulling the rune into its true form, its true image. Thor is watching with both horror and wonder at what you are doing. He must never have seen a mortal do this before. But with his constitution in your veins, it’s easier than ever to see all the hidden corners, the sharp edges and the shimmering parts, so thin as to be almost invisible. You dance, turning gracefully on your toes, you realise you’re singing as well, bringing the rune to life with a strange alien song. You’ve never heard it before, but every syllable is perfect, is correct and whole and needed to bring this project to life. You don’t know what you’re doing, but you don’t need to, because you can see the finish product – right there, on the cusp of everything. And you just do the actions needed to complete it. 

And then it is done – whole and flickering just beyond mortal sight and Thor is breathless with pride.  
“That was beautiful.” He whispers. “Now bring out the Tesseract.” And he steps behind you and releases the collar.  
And the Tesseract screams. It claws at you, trying to get away as it feels its escape at hand. It doesn’t try to harm you or take you, it just tries to flee, it knows you are too strong for it. And you reach out, like the God-King did, your mind filled with contempt and you throw it into the rune of control.  
And the rune explodes into reality as a bright glittering construct. Lit from within by the Tesseract.  
“Holy…” Jane whispers. “Wow.” She’s holding a camcorder in front of her, filming everything. You hadn’t noticed her at all until now.  
And Thor is speechless, just looking at you, to the bright blue rune hovering in air around you.  
“Uhm, the cube please.” You ask. “Quickly?”  
“Yes, of course.” And Thor hurries to retrieve it.

The Tesseract hisses and lashes out at you and the rune contracts as you press your will into the binding. Even with Thor’s strength behind you, you can’t keep this up for long. Thor presses the cube into your hand and you reach into your mind and take in the parcel of energy the God-King left for you. For a moment you just stand, the cube pressed hard against the metal circle on your palm while you breathe deeply and refocus your concentration on the next stage of the plan. Then once again your feet begin to move and your dance begins to change. This dance is harder, fiercer. You’ve never drawn this rune before, but it sears in your mind like a brand. You hold it tight, expand it in your mind’s eye and super-impose it over the rune of control. The song on your lips is harsher than before, spitting and with strange harmonics. Now you’re fighting the Tesseract, bringing your control to the fore, while at the same time, forcing your will to draw the new component to the spell. You’re completely lost to the dance, to the give and take of the movement. You step to avoid a blow from the Tesseract and pin that part of it in place with your words. Mocking it as it flails and whines, trying and failing to break free. The rune of containment begins to bind with the rune of control and as the structure takes on more complexity, as it becomes harder and stronger to break, your dance becomes quicker, more fluid and graceful. You can feel the magic of the God-King at your fingertips, can almost feel his lessons in your mind becoming manifest. You’re having an epiphany as you move, breaking through to a new level of consciousness. You can feel tears falling down your face as your body is filled with joy and knowledge beyond anything you can explain. 

And then it is over, the Tesseract is yours to command.  
You’ve won.  
You take the rune in your hands and pack it down and down and down. Then you bring it to the right frequency, so that it vibrates at the same rhythm as the cube and you place it inside, like a key fitting a lock precisely. You turn it, open it, fill it with the Tesseract and lock it again. The cube begins to steam and the two runes, interlocked and perfect appear on each side of the crystal prison.  
Then you sink to the floor, cradling it against you and crying tears you never thought you could cry. You thought you’d cried yourself out, but somewhere inside, new wells open, new dams break and you cry and you cry and you cry. Partly in joy, partly in agony, partly in regret that you can never tell Mr Stark about this. You’re aware of Thor lifting you, of carrying you over to the device. He speaks gentle words of encouragement and you reluctantly let the cube go and place it in its housing. The unit hums into life. Then Thor takes you to the couch and lies you down and for a short while, you drift, half napping as your body recovers from what you have just done. 

*

“I got it all on film. All of it. I’ve no idea what it means, but we’ve got it on record.” Jane’s excited voice pierces your fugue state and you sit up, suddenly ready and aware again. You feel completely refreshed. Natasha walks over and pushes a cup of coffee into your hands.  
“Thanks.” You sip at it and scootch over so she can sit down as well.  
“You’ve been busy.” She says.  
“Yeah. Part one accomplished.”  
“What’s part two?”  
“Opening the link.”  
Natasha looks over at the humming device. You follow her gaze. Jane is holding up the camcorder and the Director is sitting back, watching your dance without expression. You think he might disapprove of what he’s seeing, but with the Director, sometimes it’s hard to tell. When it gets to the moment when the Tesseract lights up the rune so it can be seen by everyone, he just raises an eyebrow.  
You giggle despite yourself.  
You’re feeling elated and strange and detached and happy and ready to continue. You’ve felt magic, true magic at your fingertips and it didn’t burn you at all. Instead, it had felt like coming home.  
“Well the thing, that comm unit, or whatever it is… It’s powered up and ready. But someone has to go and tell Asgard we can talk to them.” You say in explanation.  
“You can do that?” Natasha raises an eyebrow.  
“I guess I’ll have to, or all this will have been a waste of time.”  
“You strong enough?” She asks and you know she thinking of the time you saved her and nearly died.  
“Yeah, I’ve got Thor’s blood powering me along. I haven’t even tapped into my reserves yet.”  
“Still… Asgard’s a long way.”  
“I know. If it gets too hard, I’ll retreat. I won’t risk myself, I promise.”  
“I believe you.” She says. “You’ve always been practical.”  
“Thanks.” You sip at the coffee and watch the Director while he watches you on film. 

When you feel well enough you get up and walk over.  
“I’m ready for the next stage.” You say confidently and Thor frowns at you.  
“You have done a great deal, you should rest.” He says and you shake your head.  
“I’m ready.” You say firmly and Thor and the Director exchange glances.  
“If the kid says they’re ready then who are we to judge?” The Director shrugs. He looks at you. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”  
“Yes.” You answer without hesitation and he nods soberly.  
“Well, don’t let me hold you back.”  
Thor hovers as you walk up to the strange device. Some of the scientists move hurriedly out of your way. 

“Wait.” Jane reaches over and picks up the camera again. She plays with it for a moment. “Okay, go when you’re ready.”  
You smile and you reach out and touch the glowing blue cube. Thor moves up behind you and takes your shoulders.  
“If you push too far, you will be able to find me through our contact.” He says gently as he feels you tense up. “You still carry my blood in your system. Let me anchor you.”  
“I wish you could do this.” You mutter and he sighs.  
“Believe me, no one wishes they had asked more about magic in their youth than I do right now.” Thor chuckles. “Being out done by a fourteen-year-old mortal… If this ever gets out I will never live it down.”  
“I won’t tell.” You say loyally. “And anyway, it’s the only way I’m better than you. At anything. I’m kinda specialist.” You look at the curving burn marks at the back of your hand. “And I’ve been made to be this way. I’ve been modified.” You laugh. “My ride has been pimped.”  
“Pimped?” Thor asks uncertainly. “I’m not sure I heard that right…”  
“You did. It was a television show. It doesn’t mean what you think it means.”  
“Very well.” Thor’s voice tells you that he’s just going to accept it at face value. “Are you ready?”  
“Yes.” Again, there is no hesitation in your voice. You want to do this.  
“Then begin at your own pace.” 

The Tesseract spits at you. You ignore it and tell it what you want. It squirms and tries to evade your intent, but ultimately it has to do what you want. It sits sulking and waits for your instructions.  
You visualise the Bifrost, as it was before it was destroyed, a great, beautiful bronze globe. You move around it, seeing the rainbow bridge that connects it to the mainland, you envision the palace far away. Then you see the room the God-King as shown you, golden walls with an arched domed roof and in the centre the Bifrost rune, created with coloured powder and drawn with a meticulous eye.  
The Tesseract shifts in your hands, grumbling. But it’s interested, it’s curious. This is what it was born for, so it reaches out into the void to find your destination.  
And you do like the God-King instructed. You wait until the Tesseract gets the scent and starts moving in a straight line and then you start folding the space behind the blue shaft of questing light. Making the distance seem less far, punching a hole through towards your goal.  
The Tesseract thinks you’re stupid. A stupid limited human, unable to comprehend the void in all its glory. It tries to trip you up, tries to make you face the vast gulf between Midgard and Asgard. But you ignore it and push on as the God-King told you. 

You don’t know how long you spend in this strange fighting stalemate between the Tesseract and the goal at hand. The concentration required to stop the Tesseract showing you pure infinity and warping your mind and your sanity is distracting enough that you don’t really pay attention to anything else. But suddenly you’re there. You forward motion stops as the Tesseract halts and both of you float above where the Bifrost should be.  
And it’s awful.  
The Bifrost is gone. There is nothing but a shattered edge of the bridge, broken and with pieces jutting out over the precipice of the waterfall. The bridge no longer glows. The rainbows no longer dance along its length. It is dark and clear and silent. So terrible you almost want to turn back without making contact. The Tesseract starts to mock you again.

“Hello, little one.” The voice is deep, but melodic. It sounds amused. The Tesseract goes deathly quiet and still at this new interruption. You feel that it’s afraid.  
“Hello?” You respond and then you see him, stood at the edge of the bridge, a giant sword in his hands. He’s leaning forward on it, his arms on the hilt, the tip balanced on the remains of the bridge. His skin is dark, but his eyes are as golden as his armour.  
And he’s looking right at you.  
“What brings you to Asgard, this day?” He asks. He looks at the Tesseract. “And with such a powerful ally?”  
“The Crown Prince Thor.”  
“And yet, you are Loki’s Child. His magic has brought you here.” He says and instantly you feel his power. The subtle threat behind his charm. He could kill you, quickly, instantly, before you even knew what he intended. His magic is different from the God-King’s but is just as potent and just as deadly.  
“I am.” There is no point in lying. “But I do not come here under his instruction. The Crown Prince Thor has aided me this day. He gave his blood to help me tame a piece of the Tesseract and desires you to open a link with him on Midgard.”  
“He is dead?”  
“No, it was a blood spell, to help with my power. So I had the strength to reach you.”  
“You are mortal.” And the dark figure narrows his eyes. “And yet you are mortal no longer.”  
“I am told the King can help me. That he will know how to reverse what the…” You pause. You can’t name him God-King here. “…What Loki did to me.”  
“You fear him?”  
“Yes.”  
“Are you afraid now?”  
“All Asgardians scare me.” You answer truthfully. “…Sir.”  
“You are a wise child.” His voice is gently mocking, but he sounds pleased. “Wait here.”

The cage slams up around you before you can react, catching you and the Tesseract in its jaws. It’s like a giant bear trap, only it could close completely, crushing the occupants within. You scream in terror, couching on the floor, convinced you have been tricked. But once the bars meet and cross a few feet at the top, it closes no further. You can’t see out of it, can’t feel anything beyond its confines. You touch the bars and hurriedly withdraw your hand. The edges are sharp, if you try to escape they will cut your mind to ribbons. It glows a soft gold, like other Asgardian devices you have seen and it is pretty in its lethalness. The more you look at it, the more you can see the soft silver tracery in the metal, creating the spell that holds it closed. You can’t understand any of it, but somehow it comforts you to run your eyes over the loops and curves in another, alien hand. You sit down heavily on the ground and let out a large exhalation. Well you came this far, you can wait a while longer. 

The Tesseract whines and butts at you like a frightened animal. You gather it in your arms as best you can and stroke it, comforting it. It grumbles, smaller now that you control it. In your wires it had felt so big, but really, when it’s condensed down to the size it should be, it’s no bigger than a new-born kitten. You wonder how big the full Tesseract would be if it were released from its cube. The size of a large dog… as big as an elephant? There’s no way of telling. And that’s a fake comparison, anyway. This part of the Tesseract looks physically small, but in other dimensions it’s huge and pulsing. Even this small piece could be the size of a galaxy if it wanted to be. Intellectually, the whole concept is confusing, but your magically sensitive instincts treat it as the most natural thing in the world. Size is relative, perception is relative. The Tesseract exists between the two. It is simultaneously the void and the tunnels through the void. This sudden understanding makes you feel a little queasy, so you decide to leave it be and come back to the present. The Tesseract is muttering to itself. It wishes it had never left the force-field in Sokovia. It had been happy there. Slowly dying, but happy. It knows now it will never be part of the whole again and it hates you for that. But strangely accepts it too. It’s been betrayed before. It butts your hand and asks for more strokes. 

The cage is being moved. You stand nervously. If you’re taken too far from what you know, you risk getting lost. You might never find your body again. The Tesseract hisses and digs it’s claws into your arm, but it doesn’t break the skin of your mind. It’s as scared as you are. You hold it close for comfort.  
“You can find your way back, right?” You ask it and it shivers against you.  
Yes, it can. If it is released it can find its way back to its physical form. If it is released. But there is a chance that you will both remain imprisoned. It doesn’t like Asgardians, doesn’t trust them. It wants to go back.  
“You and me both.” You agree softly.  
You hit the ground with a jolt that makes you gasp. The bars pull back and you look up at the domed ceiling. You’re in the room where Thor and the God-King would appear. The sharp edges lie flat on the ground and you stand to look around, but remain where you are. You can’t step off the cage platform without hurting yourself and gravity seems to have re-established itself on your form. You can’t float here. But now you can look around. The dark man in his golden armour is stood there, looking at you, both amused and threatening at the same time and he is flanked by an older man and a woman. The man wears a gold eye patch and has a well-groomed beard and white hair. You’re instantly afraid of him, at the way he looks at you with distain. You can feel his aggression, his anger and distrust. He would rather kill you as a threat than talk to you now. The woman has curled ringlets tied back in an elegant style and a kind set to her features. Her smile is warm and you see the God-King’s mischief behind her eyes. Her presence calms you enough to start thinking again. The God-King said Heimdall would take you to the King, to Odin. So until you know any better, you will act as if this is who the other man is. Carefully you get on your knees and place the Tesseract in front of you. 

“I come at the request of the Crown Prince Thor to request an audience with you.” You say politely, keeping your eyes averted to the ground. “I bring nothing but myself and a piece of the Tesseract as my guide.”  
“What is your name, child?” The woman asks and you shake your head.  
“I have none. It was taken from me on a whim by the one I am forced to serve.”  
“Loki.” The older man says the word as if it is a curse.  
“Yes. I am his child. But the Crown Prince rescued me and now I speak on his behalf.” You keep your speech soft and even. You don’t look up from the spot on the ground a few feet in front of you.  
“Does my son still live?” The woman asks and you bite your lip. But you’d already guessed she was their mother.  
“Both brothers are alive and well.”  
“Midgard is hard to see.” The golden eyed man says in his deep voice. “There are powers unleashed that make the view distorted and vague.”  
“I can lead you there. Lead you to the Crown Prince.”  
“And how do we know this is not a trap? That this is not some ploy of my fallen son to betray us?” The older man snaps and you shake as you feel his will on you. It’s as powerful as the void mind that had pinned you to your bed in Sokovia and just as pitiless.  
“I am yours.” You whisper, quailing at what you will have to do. “I open my mind to you.”

You feel him enter and you almost scream at the intrusion. He isn’t careful like the God-King, there isn’t any respect for you at all. He acts like he owns the place and everything in it – moving through your mind with an arrogant purpose. But you don’t move, you remain as still as possible. You let him travel where he will. You’re aware of being shielded and you realise that the woman is imposing a privacy on your mind. Stopping him from over-stepping his mark and harming you. Or going too deep and seeing things you would not want to share, but cannot keep from him.  
“Thank you.” You whisper to her and you feel her touch your mind. Like your mum stroking your cheek and you almost crumple from the pain that memory invokes.  
“Oh, child.” She whispers back. “So much suffering.”  
“I’m okay.” You lie unconvincingly. “I’m okay.”  
“Have you seen enough?” She asks, her voice sharp and you other intruder reluctantly withdraws.  
The cage closes up back around you, cutting you off from the room and their conversation. You wait for their verdict and you shiver in your grief. 

The Tesseract shuffles up against you and does the equivalent of putting its head on your lap and looking at you with worry.  
“I’m okay.” You tell it.  
It doesn’t understand what is wrong.  
“It’s like…” You pause to think. It’s good to think, to take your mind off the pain by finding a way to explain it. “I had two bigger parts of myself. That came together and made me from parts of themselves.”  
You envision two blue blobs touching and a third smaller blob coming into being.  
The Tesseract watches, fascinated.  
“And then the two bigger parts were destroyed. I can never go back, never see them again. They are gone forever…” You take a big shivering sob. “And I miss them.”  
The Tesseract is horrified. It tries to imagine having its larger part taken away, gone forever. It cannot imagine it. It is too horrible to contemplate.  
“Yeah. It is.” You agree.

The cage opens again and you’re still in the room. But there are other Asgardians now and they have a small humming device between them that they put on the ground. It’s obvious they can’t see you. They start to make adjustments and the older man, the possible King, scowls at you. He moves his hand and the sharp edges of the cage flatten out to make a path to the device on the floor.  
“Place the Tesseract energy inside.” He instructs you curtly and you carefully pick up the blue shimmering ball of light and carry it forward in your arms.  
The Tesseract is afraid. It doesn’t want to go into the device. It wants to go home. It can sense a trap, or a form of torture. It doesn’t fight you, it knows that it can’t and it starts to beg.  
“It’s all going to be okay.” You tell it. “This will just connect you with your physical being back home. It will make a connection. It’s what you were born to do.”  
But it will hurt. This device is not made for its comfort. It will twist it and hurt it and make it obey.  
“I’m sorry. We have to do this. You know we do.”  
And the Tesseract whines.  
“When this is over. I will do everything I can to get you back to your bigger whole.” You tell it as it cries in your arms. “I promise. I will do everything I can.”  
The Tesseract demands your word.  
“You have it. You have my word. As a mortal, as a mage. As the one who bound you. I give you my word.”  
And the Tesseract lets you put it in the device.  
And then it starts to scream as the blue energy is pulled deep inside against its will and the sides of machine slide shut. 

You back away. You can’t look. You catch the eye of the woman and she smiles at you sadly.  
“It would have killed you, if it had won. Or worse.” She says and you nod.  
“I know. But still…”  
“But still…” She agrees.  
“How will I get home?” You ask and she turns to the man with the golden eyes.  
“Heimdall will take you back to where he found you.” She says and the man bows.  
Heimdall. The one the God-Kings hates.  
You go back in the cage and let them carry you back to the edge of the Bifrost. Then Heimdall releases you and you drift back to where you started. 

“I am sorry for all the unpleasantness.” He says. “But in these times, trust is hard to come by.”  
“I understand.” You look back the way you came from Midgard. The space is slowly returning to the way it was, but you can follow the disturbance back home. You still have time before the trail disappears for good. “Thank you for letting me go.”  
“The Queen likes you.” He smiles. “And that is good enough for me.”  
“When will the connection begin? When can we start talking to you?” You ask.  
“It will follow you back. You will be our guide.”  
“Then I shall speak with you soon.”  
“The King, not I, will make the contact.”  
“The man with the eye patch?”  
“He is King Odin, Allfather of Asgard.” He speaks as if you should have known.  
“I will let the Crown Prince know.”  
“You are brave, for a mortal. Go. I look forward to hearing your story when the Crown Prince returns.”  
“Then I shall make it a good one.” You say gallantly and he laughs. “Thank you, Great Heimdall.” You bow as best you can, floating in the air above the Bifrost. “I hope your vigil gets restored.”  
“A year, maybe less.” He tells you. “Our engineers work quickly.”  
“I will inform the Crown Prince of that as well. Though it may be too late for Midgard.”  
“Only time will tell.” He says. “But you must go, while you can see the way.”  
You bow again and turn back towards Midgard.  
You can feel the pulse of Thor in your veins, anchoring you and drawing you back. Getting back to the observatory will be faster than reaching Asgard.  
You begin your homeward journey with a great deal of mixed feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yay for the end of having to write the Tesseract. Annoying little infinite energy monster that it is. 
> 
> And I'm taking the time to say that the idea of having a main character that has no idea of what's going on makes things easier to write, is just not true. Not when it comes to trying to describe them doing magic and gaining understanding of the universe. Couching complex ideas in a way a fifteen year old would understand them is a bastard, plain and simple. An utter, utter bastard to write. And I'm not going to apologise for swearing either. :) 
> 
> But then I'm getting the distinct feeling that the stuff the Kid is working out would atomise anyone who actually knew what they were doing inside and out. The Kid doesn't know that the spell they are casting is vast and frightening and dangerously complex. They're just doing it. And I guess that's liberating in a whole new way.
> 
> Anyway, enough of my ramblings. I've just been invited to the pub. And I'm taking that invitation. 
> 
> Talk to you all soon.


	41. The First Sighting of Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey.” Natasha walks over with the Director. “We almost ready?”  
> “Almost.” Jane reaches for another sheet of paper, half hanging from the desk, and consults it. “Just need to sort, here.” She turns another dial. “Here.” She flips a switch. “And here.” She presses a big green button.  
> The light at the top of the comm unit starts to blink blue.
> 
> “Well that was a little anti-climatic.” The Director says dryly.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so here's chapter 3 of 4.  
> Yes, you had to wait a while for it, but at over 16,000 words long - it took me while.  
> In all honesty I wasn't expecting it to be half this long, but there is plot and character development and reveals and just about everything in this chapter.  
> You know when you kinda have an idea of what's going into a piece of writing and then you actually sit down and start writing it and, holy crap, those bullet points really don't give it justice? Yeah, that happened to me this time. 
> 
> I tried to break it down again, but I couldn't find a place where it was suitable, it all melds into each other and there wasn't a decent chapter break. 
> 
> So yeah, enjoy. Already started the next chapter, so shouldn't be more than a week, even if it ends up being a monster like this one. *Crosses fingers it isn't.*

*

You fall back into Thor’s arms the second you re-enter your body, your physical strength completely gone. He catches you and lifts you, cradling you close. You touch his shoulder and even lifting your arm feels like a monumental task. He leans down to listen.  
“I made contact, they’re coming.” You tell him, your voice straining to get higher than a whisper. It’s not that you’re tired or that you’ve pushed yourself too hard. It’s just the weight of a body after the freedom of the void is incredibly difficult to reacclimatise to. Like after you’ve been swimming and you get out of the pool and feel your full weight again. Only a thousand times worse. You give up and press your head against his chest.  
“I, I need a minute.”  
“Of course. The couch?”  
“Please.”  
He carries you over and lays you down.  
“How long was I gone?” You ask as he moves the cushions to prop you up.  
“Three hours.” Thor smiles at you, brimming with pride. “Not bad for a return trip to Asgard without the Bifrost to aid you. And Father agreed to come?”  
“Yes…” And that’s when the spasm hits you. You feel Thor’s panic, but you catch his hand, shake your head. You ride out the fit, your mind calm and collected. You’ve been through this before. Your body is accepting of the God-King in your mind now, but the Allfather was something completely different and you half knew this reaction was coming. 

When it ends you’re panting and Thor strokes the hair out of your eyes.  
“I’m okay.” You gasp out. “I’m okay. I had to let your father read my mind, to prove my intentions were true. This is just what happens after.”  
“After?”  
“You know.” You look at him. “Mind rape.”  
The look on his face is worth it.  
“Your mother stopped him.” You say to reassure him. “I think your father’s been through a lot. He wasn’t as careful as he should have been.”  
“And this is a common occurrence for you?” Thor asks flatly.  
“Your brother likes to keep in touch.” You sigh, resting back against the pillows. “And it isn’t mind rape with him. It was at first, but now it’s more a connection of minds, an extension of our thoughts touching. When he goes in my head my body doesn’t go through this anymore. I’m used to him now. It’s almost like holding a conversation or sharing our day.”  
“But not here?” Thor asks and you shake your head.  
“Not here. He’s giving me a break.”  
“I suppose I should be grateful for small mercies.”  
“I’m used to him. But your father is way more powerful.”  
“He is.” Thor agrees. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? You’ve expended a lot of energy.”  
“I have.” You agree. “Some juice would be nice. Maybe some more cake…?”  
“If that is what you desire.” Thor smiles again. “It shall be done.”  
He pats your shoulder, his expression once again filled with a pride and he heads off to the kitchen. 

He gives you the tray and then stands off to one side, watching you eat with concern, but keeping an eye on everything else as well. There’s a feeling of contained power coming off him, brooding and strong and protective. It makes you feel safe. He’s not going to put up with anyone giving you shit. You feel safe enough that you start to look around. 

Filo’s awake, but quiet, patient. He has the same kind of expression on his face like Nastasha when she knows that she’s beat, but waiting for an opening. The bruising on his face is more extensive now, but you think it’s just new colouring coming out from the original beating. He certainly doesn’t look like he’s been worked over again and some of it has that yellowish edging to it showing it’s at least half a day old. Someone’s given him a cigarette and he’s smoking it slowly, his hands as steady as they ever were. He glances up at you, smiles and nods. You return it and continue looking round.

Jane is busy. The comm unit keeps making strange noises and the Tesseract keeps flashing and pulsing as if it’s trying to communicate or do something. You’re a bit sorry you can’t hear it anymore, but more relived, if you’re honest. It had been a hard burden to carry. You’re glad it’s now someone else’s problem. Jane’s got one of the scientists working the camera and getting it all on film while she talks with the rest of the group, discussing and mapping a vast amount of equations on a spread out piece of A1 paper. They’re all listening to her and joining in with their own opinions at intervals. Everything looks far more technical than you’re ready to deal with right now. 

Natasha and the Director are off to one side, discussing something privately. The Director has a Stark Pad and they’re looking over what seem to be documents, though the Director’s scrolling through them too fast for you to get an idea of anything they’re talking about. He keeps glancing over at Jane and you know that he wants this part of the day to be over with. You can’t imagine what he must be juggling right now, after the failed attack at the silo. He keeps pausing in the middle of the conversation, turning away from Natasha and speaking in mid-air, so he must have a phone earbud or something relaying things back to him, keeping him up to date. Probably from the Carrier. He can’t leave yet, not until he’s spoken with Asgard, but the pressure must be mounting. He looks generally pissed about everything. He glances at you, gives a small scowl and then looks away. You’re not sure if the scowl is aimed at you or not, so you decide not to take it personally. 

Everyone else is tense, but quiet, keeping to their own business. You don’t blame them. Thor looks about ready for any excuse to chew someone out and the Director and Natasha aren’t that far behind. By the time you’ve finished the juice and the cake, you’re feeling much more settled. You’re used to being back in your body again. You sit up, putting your legs over the side of the couch and then you experimentally try to stand. Your legs are shaky, but they work and you balance with your arms outstretched as you get up.  
“Easy, little one.” And Thor’s instantly there, ready to give you support.  
“I’m good. Just a little out of practice. Travelling as just a mind through the void is extremely strange.”  
“I can imagine.” He keeps about an arm’s width away. Giving you space to sort yourself out, but ready to catch you if need be. “The only other person I know who could have achieved that feat is Loki.” He pauses, sighs. “I do miss who my brother used to be.”  
“I’m guessing he pulled your fat out of the fire more than once.” You say. “If he’s the only one who can do stuff like this.”  
“We all specialised, we were a good team, my shield brothers, Sif and I.”  
“I would have liked to see it.”  
“Perhaps one day.” Thor smiles at you. “Once this battle is won.”  
“I’d like that.” And you’re being honest, you would like to meet his friends, to walk peacefully in Asgard. To see the palace and the gardens and the real Ragnar’s Pit. But the chances are slim to none of that ever happening. Even if everything works out like Thor wants, you couldn’t look at his dad and see a noble King. You’ve felt his mind and he is not a nice person. 

It isn’t that he hates mortals, or has distain for them. You weren’t high enough on his list for those emotions. He didn’t even think of you as a pet or a clever animal, just a thing that had to be dealt with. You were a creature normally completely beneath his notice who, through circumstance, he had to bother to acknowledge. And he found it distasteful. Like having to grub in the dirt for worms. If he’d harmed you, it wouldn’t have been deliberate, or malicious, just that he didn’t care either way. You think of his expression when he lowered the cage so you could place the Tesseract in the device. It’s a perfect mirror for the look the God-King gives you when you’re in trouble – so cold, so impassive. The look Thor gave you when you hid the kitchen knife. The expression that made you wet yourself.  
No, you could never go to Asgard. 

“So…” You look over at the device. “When does the party start?”  
“Soon. I believe Jane is just balancing the power output between here and there. The connection was completed five minutes after you arrived back. Now it is just a matter of fine tuning.”  
“She’s really clever, isn’t she?”  
“Indeed. Extremely so.”  
“Is that why you love her?” You ask and for a moment Thor eyes mist over.  
“I have never met anyone as capable as Jane Foster.” He says and you smile at him.  
“She’s lucky to have you.” You say and he nods.  
“And I her.” He sighs. “If she lived as long as Asgardians do… The wonders she would achieve. The fates can be cruel.”  
“Hey, she’s not dead yet. You’ve got years together.” You pause and, deciding he needs it, you take his hand to reassure him. Thor looks down at the hand, looks at you in surprise and then gives a small laugh.  
“You’ve got lots of happy memories to have and share.” You continue to tell him. “It’s not the length of time you have, but the quality, right?”  
“Perhaps.” Thor nods. “Shall we find out how she is doing?”  
“Sounds good to me.” 

When you walk over, Jane is at the comm unit, inputting several different codes and playing with a few dials, turning them minutely one way and then the other. She doesn’t notice you, her face a picture of extreme concentration. Thor coughs discreetly and Jane looks up.  
“Hey.” She smiles at him, sees that you’re holding hands and her smile widens. “I’m just adding the final touches. We’ll be up and running in the next minute or so. I was about to call you over.”  
She looks from you to Thor.  
“I’m glad you two are finally making friends.”  
“Yeah.” You look up at him. “He’s not so bad.”  
Thor shakes his head at you and gives a snort of laughter.  
“Children.” He says derisively. “Always indecisive.”  
“Hey.” Natasha walks over with the Director. “We almost ready?”  
“Almost.” Jane reaches for another sheet of paper, half hanging from the desk, and consults it. “Just need to sort, here.” She turns another dial. “Here.” She flips a switch. “And here.” She presses a big green button.  
The light at the top of the comm unit starts to blink blue.

“Well that was a little anti-climatic.” The Director says dryly.  
“Uhm…” Jane consults her notes. “Nope, it’s all gone through. Now we just have to wait for the final hand-shake from Asgard.”  
Your hand tightens around Thor’s and he gives it a squeeze to reassure you.  
“You did well. This will work.” He says softly and you nod and look anxiously at the blinking light.  
“Kid.” Natasha walks up to you. “Here. So you look the part.” She hands you the harness with the daggers. “Don’t want an audience with the Allfather underdressed, now do we?”  
You glance at Thor and the Director and they both nod in permission before you take them and sling the harness back on. You quickly go through your checks, unsheathing and flipping each blade carefully, checking their edges and weight. Making sure they haven’t been tampered with.  
Thor watches with firm approval.  
“A warrior always knows his weapons.” He tells you. “Inside and out.”  
“And these are mine.” You say with happy pride. “I will give them all the care and love they deserve.”  
“Uhm, guys…? If these readouts are right, I think we need to take about five paces back.” Jane says. “Right now.” 

*

The Tessearact growls as its energy starts to claw its way from the cube in waves of blue circular energy. The lines are stuttering, as if trying to resist, or in pain, but only you seem to be able to see it. Everyone else is hurriedly backing away and Thor draws you with him. The energy caresses the floor, leaving scorch marks in the carpet. Then it pulls back completely, gives a high pitched wail and floods forward in a single hard band of expanding blue that wavers and shimmers into the image of the Allfather. He looks around him disdainfully, his gaze stopping briefly on you and then latching fully on to his son. Thor bows deeply, his right hand held over his heart in a fist. You look at the Alllfather, at his grey hair and beard and wonder how close he is to five thousand years old. How much knowledge he has, how much strength. Without thinking you copy Thor’s gesture, but drop to one knee as well. The Allfather’s gaze flickers back to you and he smiles.  
“You may rise, child.” He tells you gently and you get back to your feet with a nod of thanks.  
“Father, it is so good to see you.” Thor says.  
“And it is good to see you.” The King looks around him. “Who are your guests?”  
Thor makes the introductions around the group and the King stops him at Jane, walking over for a closer look. She’s flustered by the sudden interest and gives a small, bobbing curtesy while wearing trousers and tries to do the hand over heart gesture with limited success.  
“So you are the mortal that has stolen my son’s heart.” He says and Jane glances at Thor.  
“You told your dad about me?” She asks, incredulous.  
“But, of course.” Thor shrugs and Jane looks back at the King.  
“Uhm… Pleased to meet you?” She says uncertainly and the King shakes his head.  
“You will have to train her better, if you wish her to walk the halls of Asgard.”  
He turns in dismissal and walks back to Thor. Jane watches him go, a hurt expression on her face. 

“So how fairs the battle against my younger fool of a son?” He asks and Thor sighs.  
“He has the Tesseract. And he has been shown how to use it effectively.”  
“Who has shown him?”  
“I do not know. But I fear for him Father. That he has not fallen alone.”  
“You should not fear for an enemy. Once he is home, once he is safe, once the trial has been decided – then you may once again view him as a brother. Until that day he is an enemy, a savage animal that must be brought to heel. Be brought to justice. Do not waver in your intent my son, or Midgard may fall.”  
“I give you my word, Father.” And Thor bows again. 

“So, any chance of having Asgard showing up to give us some aid?” The Director asks, getting directly to the point and the King looks at him and smiles.  
“The Bifrost is being rebuilt as we speak. In less than a year the full might of Asgard will be here. You need only hold on a short while.”  
“A year?” The Director looks disgusted. “Loki’s progress is near unstoppable at this moment in time. He has access to wormholes, magical bullshit we don’t understand and has taken over half the Avengers. We may not have that long.”  
“You need just hold out. Change your strategy, defend what you have. Asgard is ready to come to your aid.”  
“Loki just killed a friend of mine. Perhaps one of the few minds on earth who could have helped us stop him. He has a whole damn alien army coming through a portal in space!” The Director snaps. “Can’t you help us in any way?”  
“You tone is unbecoming, for speaking with a King.” The Allfather glares at him. He turns to Thor. “You allow these creatures to speak to you in this way? The rightful heir of Asgard?”  
“The mortals speak bluntly, Father. But it is their way. Their short lives mean that they must reach their point quickly.” Thor inclines his head. “They mean no offense.”  
“No offense, my ass.” The Director snarls. “I’ve wasted half a day here when I could have been elsewhere and this is all you can tell me? To defend and wait while your pointy helmeted soldiers just kick their heels back for twelve months?”  
“I will see if there is a way to send reinforcements.” The Allfather says, grudgingly. “Now that we have a direct link, we may be able to use it to send a few warriors across. But the spells are weighty and will cost a great deal of energy.”  
“Whatever you can spare would be greatly appreciated.” The Director’s voice is a hairsbreadth from being sarcastically rude. “Allfather.”  
The King gives him a long, hard look, then seems to decide to ignore the slur.  
He turns back to Thor.

“Is this all the reason you sent for me? To be offended and berated by our lessers?”  
“No Father, I…” Thor looks down at you. “Loki has done something terrible and I need your advice.”  
You look up at him, biting your bottom lip and then over to the King.  
“The child stinks of my warmongering son. When it arrived at Asgard I almost commanded Heimdall destroy it.” The Allfather’s lip curls in his disgust as he looks down at you. You look away, shivering in fear.  
“And I am glad you did not.” Thor says his voice sharp. He takes your shoulder. “This child has been maimed by our technology, by something stolen from within our vaults. We have a duty to help them.”  
“Do we now?” The Allfather says, his tone derisive.  
“We do.” Thor says firmly. The King looks at him in surprise and finally looks at you properly. Not as a creature, not as a thing, but as a wounded child. He lifts his hand and you feel something pressing against you, shimmering through you. You grip Thor’s hand on your shoulder and look to him for reassurance. He nods at you and you nod back, biting you lip so hard you know you’ll leave a mark. 

“I know this technology.” The Allfather says eventually. “It was banned after the war with the Jotan. Only a few discs remain. We should have destroyed them, but decided to keep them as a warning to the follies of war.” He sighs. “And now this child pays the price.”  
“What… What will it do?” You ask timidly. You give a little half bow. “…With greatest respect, of course, Majesty.”  
“Now this young one has been well trained.” The Allfather says approvingly.  
“They were trained by Loki.” The Director says dryly and the King looks startled. He stares at you closely and you shiver away.  
“How did he train you?” He asks and you look at your feet, your lips turning downwards as you try not to cry. You don’t want to talk about this.  
“Through pain, I believe.” Thor says gently. “And through fear.”  
“How old…” The Allfather’s voice trails off.  
“Fifteen.” Thor says, in the same bleak tone.  
The Allfather goes quiet. He clears his throat before continuing.

“We cannot reverse it. The wires run too deep. The child will carry them for the rest of their life.” He sighs. “Not even the Soul Forge could intervene at this late stage. The body and the wires are almost one.”  
“Then what can we do?” Thor asks, urgently.  
“If you wish them to live? Return them to Loki.” The Allfather looks as if he has a bad taste in his mouth. “I cannot send help in time and once the wires finish their work this young one will need someone of great magical power to stop them from dying.”  
“Wh – What?” You say startled. “I’m, I’m going to die?”  
“When the process finishes, it must be tied off. The magic must be performed within a day of the wires reaching their goal, or they will continue to grow, causing pain, madness and death. Any master mage could do it, but ideally it should be the one who started the process. They have the best chance of success.”

“But why would Loki do this?” Natasha asks. “What purpose does it have?”  
“When the Frost Giants attacked Midgard our forces were stretched and the mortals could not perform magic. The Jotan started to leave spells in the ice, hidden until someone stepped into their range. We did not have the resources or the man power to take on the Jotan threat and search for these devices. The wires were developed as a way of granting mortals limited magical skill. It gave them a sensitivity to the presence of these fields and the ability, with training, of taking the magic inside themselves, nullifying the weapon. Then it would be marked and our mages would disarm the device completely when they visited the village again. They would also take the power held within the wires of the mortal to use against their enemies.”  
“So what went wrong?” Natasha’s voice is soft, but you can tell she’s desperate for the answer.  
The Allfather looks at you before continuing.

“The ones that did not die of the process became pawns in the war…” He pauses. “And we found that children, those going through adolescence, were the best and most receptive to the treatment. At first it was good, they were eager to be of service. But then the Jotan discovered them…” He pauses, looking away from you and towards Natasha.  
“… they started putting the spells directly into the mortal’s bodies, stealing them for a few hours when they were out looking for the traps. Then when the mages tried to take the power out of them, it would trigger an explosion that levelled half the village. We lost many good mages this way. As well as this, the children started exhibiting Asgardian traits. They became stronger, more hardy to weather and damage. They became disgusting, half-breed things, neither human nor of Asgard…”

“So apart from your racist views and the fact they might be weaponised. What was it that actually made you ban their use?” Nastasha asks pointedly.  
“Their connection with the mage who made them. Once joined, the bond became powerful. The Asgardian could wield a great controlling power over their mortals from a great distance. They could kill or drive them insane on a whim. They could force their will upon them, harm them and take full control over their bodies. The mortal became nothing more than a vessel for their games. And remember, we are talking about children. Young ones with no defence. After the war, the mages that still lived brought their young charges to Asgard and abused them terribly. Used them in ways I do not wish to describe. When this came to light, they were tried, convicted and punished. Most of the children, now adult, begged for death and it was granted. A few were allowed to return to Midgard and lived out their lives in remote areas, keeping to themselves. But they had become dependent. Without their masters they quickly withered away.” The King looks at you in pity. “A terrible way to die. Even for the short lived.”  
You swallow heavily.  
“How could I avoid it?” You ask, your voice no more than a whisper.  
“If Loki chooses to release you, to free you from the bond you share, then the wires will give you a long and prosperous life. One far in excess of mortal years.”  
“And… and if he doesn’t?” You ask, your voice breaking.  
“Then you have my condolences.”  
And you can’t stop the tears from falling. 

“Well isn’t that just peachy.” The Director says acidly. “Got any good news for a fifteen-year-old who’s just been told their life is over?”  
“You are Gifted? Yes?” The King says and you nod. “Then perhaps you have a chance. I felt the power in you when you allowed me inside your mind. Frigga felt it as well. Once the process is over, perhaps she could teach you a few ways to fight back.” He raises his hand to stall the Director speaking again. “It may not work, Loki is wily and clever for his age. A natural mage just coming into his prime. You are but a child. However, perhaps we can help you.” His face quirks in the first smile you’ve seen. “You too, are brimming with natural talent and your magic and his are intertwined. Only the strongest of mortals could have brought the Tesseract to our door. Perhaps you will find a way to break the bond from inside you, perhaps not, but there is hope. Do not give up.”  
“Thank you.” You drop to your knees in gratitude, at this light, however small, at the end of the tunnel. The Allfather crouches and mutters something. His blue fingers touch your right wrist, just below the black markings and a single, extra line loops around your wrist at the bottom of the design. It glows blue and burns, making you hiss in pain, but quickly it cools and turns as black as the rest.  
“Now Frigga will be able to find you, wherever you are.” The Allfather leans in, a fatherly conspirator. “She asked me to do this for you and a wise King knows when to give in to his Queen’s wishes.” You smile at him, at this change of mood. But it’s fleeting, after a moment he stands and his face is once again cold and impassive as he gazes around the circle.  
“Now, I would like to talk to my son in private.” He looks at Jane, still hurt by his harsh words. “And the one he loves.” He gives her a brief smile of welcome and then nods at the Director in dismissal. “We shall see what we can do to help you before the Bifrost is built. You have my word.”  
“Thank you, Allfather.” And again the Director can’t quite keep the sarcasm out of his voice as he strolls away. Natasha gives a rigid half bow and takes a few steps back before moving off. You shakily get off your knees. The tears are still falling from somewhere deep inside. Thor catches your hand in a warm clasp and smiles down at you.  
“If Father says there is hope, then there is hope.” He says and you nod and smile back through the tears.  
“I know. Thank you.”  
You bow deeply to the Allfather and then quickly retreat.

You wipe irritably at your eyes and wait for the tears to stop falling of their own accord. You’re not crying anymore, but the tears just won’t stop flowing. You guess you’ve just been through too much in the last twelve hours, it must be some sort of weird emotional reaction. You stand in the middle of the room waiting for instruction, but everyone seems to have forgotten you. So you go to the couch and turn on the television. You find the remote down the side of the cushion and click it to one of the news stations. You want to gather all the information you can before you go back. There are tissues on the table and you reach for one as the screen flickers to life. 

*

“He was lying.” Natasha sits down next to you about an hour later with a jug of water and a glass on a tray.  
“What?” You turn distractedly from the news screen. The tears have finally stopped, but you’re feeling angry and edgy. You’re not really in the mood, but you move over so she can sit down.  
“There’s way more to it than he told you. That might have been the public reason the tech was banned, but not the private reason.” Natasha pours a glass. “Drink.” She hands you the glass.  
You do and pull a face.  
“Ugh! Salty!”  
“Yup. You’ve spent a lot of time crying over the last day. All with good reason, but now you need to replenish the water and salt you lost doing it.” She looks at you sternly. “So drink up.”  
“Why isn’t Mr Stark’s death on the news?” You ask, taking another obedient mouthful and wincing at the taste.  
“Because we’ve decided to keep it that way for now. Another Avenger death? Now? Morale is already shaky. Word will get out, sure, but once it gets out of this room it could just be rumour so long as we play it right.”  
“You don’t want people to panic.” You say and she nods.  
“Got it in one.” 

“So why do you think the Allfather was lying?” You ask with half an eye on the screen in front of you.  
“Because I can tell. Because he didn’t think we were worthy of knowing the answer.” Natasha leans forward, elbows on her knees. “I don’t think he was lying, per say, but he definitely didn’t tell you everything.”  
“I suppose everything he told me I already knew.” You lift your right hand and let the light from the television flicker over the gold circle. “That it holds energy. Both physical and magical. That the God-King can take the magic out of my wires, if he wants. That he can control me over distance. I mean even the letting me go part, I knew it, deep down. If he wants me dead, I’m dead. But on the other side of the coin, he can let me live, too. And a long life at that…” You purse your lips in thought.  
“You’ve stopped drinking.”  
“Oh right.” You take another reluctant gulp. “This tastes really bad, you know that?”  
“I know that.” Natasha quirks her lips in a short-lived smile. “But it’s good for you.”  
“I guess.” You take another swallow. Natasha leans over and tops up the glass.  
“Really?” You ask.  
“Yup.”  
“Fine.” You scowl at her. “But I’m doing this under protest.”  
“Duly noted.”  
She watches you steadily until you take another reluctant sip. 

“He wanted you scared.” She says after you’ve drank another half of the glass.  
“He did?” You sigh as she tops it up again.  
“So you wouldn’t fight when he tagged you.” Natasha looks at the black mark on your wrist. “Seems even Asgard wants to know what you’re up to.”  
“Yay me.” You say sarcastically. “I’m everyone’s favourite pawn.”  
“You’ve been singled out by everyone’s number one enemy.” Natasha shrugs. “And you’re proving more than capable on your own. If a mortal rocked up to my space palace using the magic of a wanted war criminal, I’d tag them as well.”  
You run your hand over the new mark. It doesn’t feel any different to the rest.  
“Should I tell him?”  
“Loki?”  
“He’ll be pissed.”  
“Probably.” She agrees. “But how pissed would he be to find out later on?”  
“Point.” You sigh. “And he’s going to be pissed I helped Thor talk to Asgard.” You figure it’s still best to lie about that, to seem reluctant. Natasha seems to take it at face value.  
“How exactly could you say no?” She says pointedly.  
“I could have pretended I couldn’t of done it.”  
“True, but that isn’t you, is it? You’ve got all this new fancy hardware and you wanted to show it off. Anyway, how else were you supposed to deal with the Tesseract? It was eating you up inside, I could see the strain it put on you.”  
“Yeah.” You nod and take another few mouthfuls of the foul drink. “It came real close to taking me over. If it hadn’t been for Thor, I would have lost a while ago.”  
Natasha goes quiet. She really cares for you. It makes you feel warm inside. 

“His mum is really nice.” You say to break the moment.  
“Who’s mum?”  
“The God-King’s and Thor’s. When she smiled at me I saw everything good that the God-King has. His mischief and his sense of humour and his sudden acts of mercy. I saw everything bad in his dad though. Don’t be fooled, the Allfather is ruthless.”  
“I don’t doubt it. A person doesn’t get to rule a Kingdom of Gods without being worse than the lot of them combined.”  
“I hope she does come to help. She reminds me of my mum. A bit.” You bite you bottom lip, considering. “A lot, actually.”  
“Don’t let her use it against you.” Natasha pours the last of the water into your glass. “She might be more carrot than stick. But if she’s Queen, then she’ll have a will of iron under that nice smile.”  
“Probably.” You agree grudgingly.  
“And if you’re missing your mum, she’ll capitalise on that. Without a second thought. You’re fighting hard to stop Loki manipulate you, don’t let his mum win that fight. After all, if he’s learnt his bastard streak from his dad, then he’ll have learnt manipulation from his mum.”  
“I just… I wish I could trust someone, y’know?” You finish the water by tipping your head back and gulping it down.  
“You trust me.” Natasha points out and you smile at her.  
“Yeah, but…” You sigh. “You know what I mean.”  
“I do.” She takes the glass and puts it back on the tray. “You wish you could trust the ones that can get in your head and do weird stuff to your brain.”

“I really like you, Natasha, and I do trust you.” You consider. “As much as I can trust anyone.” You scuff your heels on the carpet. “I’ve been burned too much.”  
“I get that.”  
“But, yeah, if there was anyone I trust the most, it’s you.” You glance over to where Filo is still chained up. “And him.”  
“Filo?”  
“I owe him. A lot. And I guess he owes me too. But when it came down to it, when he could have killed me easily, followed HYDRA’s orders. He didn’t do it.”  
“It was pragmatism, not mercy.”  
“I know.” You laugh. “I’m not stupid. But that makes me feel safer, knowing it’s for solid reasons. Kind intentions can bite you in the ass, but practical survival? I can get behind that.”  
“My, such cynicism.” But again, a smile quirks on her lips.  
“Yup. Sign me up.” You grin at her. “I mean, who in their right mind would trust a trained assassin?”  
“Touche.” She shakes her head. “You want some juice to wash that water down with?”  
“A coffee would be nice. I’m beginning to flag and I’d like to hold on until I get on the Quinjet.”  
“That could be six hours away.”  
“I can manage.”  
“I bet you can.” She stands, slapping her legs in a decisive gesture as she does so. “Coffee it is.” 

“You know what I think?” You say as Natasha comes back with two steaming mugs.  
“What do you think?” She sits down and hands you the coffee.  
“That it wasn’t Asgardians hurting mortals.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well it was meant to be a way to give mortals a bit of magic power right? But power strictly controlled from on high, by the Asgardians.” You blow on your coffee to cool it. “But I’m gifted and I’m learning how to use it independent of the God-King. What if all the mortals started learning how to use it like I did? What if suddenly Asgard was making a new race of magically sensitive mortals?”  
“I’d ban it.” Natasha says firmly. “Having to deal with mages would be bad for the assassination business.”  
“But you know what I mean.”  
“I do.”  
“So what do you think?”  
“That you should test the theory.”  
“How?”  
“Laura’s getting wired up too, right?”  
“My sister?” You shrug. “She’s magically blind.”  
“She was magically blind.” Natasha points out. “Now she’s telepathically bonded to two mages. Might be worth a look.”  
“It’s a good point.” You grin at her, then you realise what she just said.  
“I’m a mage.” You say in a proud, dopey voice.  
“You are.” She punches your shoulder gently. “In a few years, you’ll be giving Loki a run for his money.”  
“I’d like that.” You say, a little guiltily.  
“Hey, I’d pay to see it.”  
You both go quiet and watched the news for a bit. It’s showing more American refugees, with one boat filmed being taken back by the Chitauri. The clip comes with half a dozen warnings beforehand. You watch it quietly.

“So are you guys going to hold a funeral for Mr Stark?” You ask eventually.  
“We’re going to have a vigil tonight and that’s it. For now. Until we see a body, or until Pepper comes back and confirms it.”  
“You’re going to send her in? It could so be a trap.”  
“You don’t know Pepper very well, do you?”  
“Only by reputation.” You pause, sipping your cooling coffee. “And it’s a good reputation.”  
“We won’t be able to stop her once she hears about Loki’s invitation. She’ll want to see the body, work out the funeral arrangements, sort out his will and testament, the whole thing. She could keep Tony in line, Loki will be nothing.”  
“I’ll look forward to meeting her.”  
“Tony had a death scare a few years back. Everything he owns is now catalogued precisely. And he owns a lot of stuff. Pepper will be there for a while.”  
“A death scare? I didn’t hear about it.”  
“His arc reactor was malfunctioning. He worked out the problem in time. It was kinda private.”  
“Right.” You look down at your feet. “I’m gonna miss him.”  
“You and everyone here.” 

“Can Filo come with me?” You ask, taking the plunge.  
“What?”  
“Well, with Mr Stark gone, I’m scared I won’t have any friends in the Empire State. We used to look out for each other and…” You sigh and hiccup. “I just, I need someone there, someone on my side, y’know?”  
“It can’t be Filo….” Natasha shakes her head. “He knows too much about HYDRA, we need him here and anyway Thor would throw a fit.”  
“I guess.”  
“I’ll work something out, I promise. Loki’s crazy, but he has his standards, his rules and regulations… I’ll see what I can do.”  
“You’re not coming.” You say firmly. “No way am I having him Sceptre you.”  
“And the Director will say the same. No I’m thinking of something else. But it might not work, so I’m not telling you what it is. I don’t want to get your hopes up.”  
“But no Filo?”  
“No Filo.”  
You sigh and drink your coffee.

“So who is he?” You ask, gesturing at the old man.  
“Who? Filo?” Natasha sounds surprised at your question.  
“Yeah. I get the feeling you two know each other.” You glance at him. “You act the same in a crisis and… I don’t know… Maybe I’m just getting better at spotting this kind of stuff.”  
“Filo is…” Natasha sighs. “He’s who I would have been, thirty years from now, if I’d stayed loyal to the Red Room.”  
“The what now?”  
“The Red Room was where I was…” She sighs and looks away.  
“Hey, if this is too much, it’s cool. You don’t have to share. Somethings are way too personal… I get it.”  
“No. No. It’s okay. Just out of the blue.” Natasha puts her empty cup on the carpet in front of her and leans on her knees. “You don’t just become an assassin, kid. You get chosen at a young age, trained, groomed, made into a weapon. The Red Room trains the best and sends us out to work. I was saved, given a choice. I joined SHIELD and started trying to make up for what I did. Filo… Well he never got that choice, I guess.”  
You look back over at him, sitting there quietly, watching and waiting. 

“He doesn’t seem upset about it.”  
“Well we’re trained not to think about it. I had to be de-programmed. I had to find out what it was like to be a normal person.” She gives a small, bitter laugh. “For a given percentage of normal.”  
“So they brain-wash you?”  
“Kind of, and eventually you get so deep in blood you can’t see any other way. What difference would it make? What’s one more life in the pile?” She frowns. “It’s a life-style, a way of being and while you’re there, you can’t see anything else. It seems the right way, the only way to live in a hard and cruel world.” She clasps her hands. “Which of course is only hard and cruel because that’s the only bit of it you see when you’re part of it. You don’t see any of the good, so you think it’s all bad.”  
“Filo doesn’t seem to think it’s all bad, the world, I mean, not the life-style. Sure he’s hard and cynical, but he knows it’s a choice.”  
“Does he?” Natasha looks at you. “Or does he just pay lip service to the idea that he might leave it all behind one day.” She glances at him. “Sure, sometimes he might have deliberately botched a contract. Let someone live. Because his target did something at the right place, at the right time. Something that made him feel, just for a moment, what it is to be human. We… I… You don’t…” She pauses, takes a deep breath and gathers her thoughts before continuing. 

“You’re just a machine, a professional… with a job to do. But sometimes… when you see the humanity in someone… It’s so rare in our work, to see someone like that, so you do react to it… and sometimes you can’t pull the trigger.” She looks you straight in the eye. “It doesn’t make you friends.”  
“So you’re saying he let me live because he saw himself in me. What he went through when he was a kid. And I was nice and cared about his non-existent family and that was all the excuse he needed not to go through with it?”  
“Sure. Absolutely.” She glances back at him. “He looks at me and he sees the same thing. An assassin in their prime, having doubts, trying to do better. Maybe he did get a choice when he was my age. Maybe he didn’t take it.” 

“And you look at him and see yourself.”  
“If I’d stayed.”  
“So you’ve got a reason not to like him.”  
Natasha looks a back at you, that half-smile on her face.  
“You trying to analyse me, kid?” She asks.  
“I have to practise on someone and you’re the one I know the most about out of everyone here.” You glance around. “I mean, I wouldn’t know where to start on the Director…”  
“Trust me. No one does.” She takes the empty mug out of your hands and picks hers up off the floor. “You want to come to the vigil tonight?”  
“No. I’ll wait for the funeral in New York. I’ll have to attend and I can only take the hit once.”  
“So, what you gonna do instead?”  
“Get some rest, I guess? You can lock me in my room for the time it takes. I’m willing.” You smile up at her. “I don’t want to be a security risk.”  
“The Director will probably go with that. Thor too. They’ll understand, you’ve taken quite an emotional kicking today.”  
“Yeah. You’ll tell them? Explain for me?”  
“Sure.” She switches the mugs so she’s holding both handles in one hand, so she can ruffle your hair. You close your eyes and smile at the sensation. “I’ll let everyone know on your behalf.”  
“Thanks. I’ll just watch the news until you come and tell me to go to bed.”  
“You want something to read in your room? Something to do while we’re busy?”  
“Nah, I’m good. I just need to sit for a while. The alone time will do me some good.” You shrug. “Give me time to think, y’know?”  
“I get it.” She slides her hand down to your shoulder and gives it a quick squeeze. “Whatever happens, I’m on your side.”  
“Thanks. It’s good to know.”  
“It’s why I said it.”  
She heads off to the kitchen to clean up and spread the word. You turn back to the television and turn up the volume a little. The news anchor is talking about the God-King’s strategy again, but funnily enough, no one’s mentioning anything about the nukes. 

*

You wait for a good half an hour after they’ve locked you in your room before sliding off your bed and heading for the window. Your abilities feel different without the Tesseract pulsing inside of you. Weaker somehow, missing something indefinable. It’s harder to concentrate, you’re tired and your mind is woolly, but you need this time alone. A final taste of freedom. You push your senses out, searching for surface thoughts and hear five pings on your radar that aren’t Filo, all inside the building.  
It’s safe to proceed.  
You press your palm to the window lock and feel the electric current running through the frame. It doesn’t take much to trick the alarm into taking your window out of the circuit loop. You can taste magic just outside the glass, Thor’s power running through it. But after a small amount of probing you determine that it’s a magical ward put up to keep the God-King out. It isn’t attuned to you at all. If you slip away for a bit, no one will know.  
“Metal of my metal, blood of my blood, my soul sings to you, unbar my way.” You whisper to the lock and feel it click under your fingers. As an after-thought you shrug on your daggers. You’re not expecting trouble, or to get caught at all, but you have no Tesseract in your wires to protect you now. It pays to be cautious. You also turn on your bedside lamp and draw the charge into your hand. Not enough to kill anyone, but more than enough to stun for a quick get-away. You need to start thinking like a warrior. You walk back to the window, lift the latch and slip out into the night. 

*

“What are you doing?” You turn at the hologram’s voice and smile at him.  
“Going for a walk.” You tell the God-King as you head in the opposite direction from the vigil. “What are you doing?”  
“Checking how you are after your magical jaunt to Asgard.”  
“I didn’t know you cared.” You say grinning and he shakes his head in disapproval.  
“Whelp.” But his voice has a fondness to it.  
“I’m only going to be twenty minutes or so. Just wanted to feel the snow and the cold night air one more time.” You turn away and take a long, deep breath of the cool crispness of the night sky.  
“A last goodbye to freedom?” He asks and you look at him.  
“When I go back, things are going to take a step up. I know you’re going to start really pushing me to learn. Here I have a bit of leeway. Why shouldn’t I take a break?”  
“Does anyone know you’re out here?”  
“No.” You shrug. “But I’m safe, the whole place is filled with SHIELD agents.”  
“That are all over there, mourning the idiot Stark.”  
“There are five guarding the house.” You say defensively. “And he wasn’t an idiot.”  
“So five people who can’t even keep a child in a room. How very reassuring.” The God-King says drily. “And you’re still defending him, even in death. Yet once there was a time you assured me you weren’t friends.”  
“Hey, it’s not friendship. Without him my family would have been in real trouble, long before you came along. Mr Stark’s a hero, I really liked him. And he used to pick up the pieces after you tried to break me, if it wasn’t for him I’d be long gone.” You scuff the snow and glare at him. “So, just this once, you can fuck off.”  
The God-King stops dead and looks affronted. You can see him weighing things up and then he shrugs.  
“Very well, just this once. Because you are in mourning.”  
“You’re too kind.” You grumble. “You don’t have to leave or anything, maybe the company would be good, but don’t mention him anymore, alright?”  
“Very well.” 

You both walk in silence for a while. It is good to have him there. You thought you’d wanted to be alone, but in truth, you just wanted to get outside without being in trouble. Or having someone nagging you to dress-up warm, or watching your every move. The God-King seems to enjoy it as well, his hands held loosely behind his back, watching the waves crash on the cliffs. His gaze is drawn often to the quiet grey clouds moving over the half-moon in the sky. It has its own large frost halo that shimmers and glows peacefully. He’s dressed super-casual in just a dark green, cotton lace-up shirt and grey wool trousers. You realise after a short while that he’s also barefoot and has no jewellery on at all.  
“You’re looking a bit underdressed.” You comment and he smiles without looking at you.  
“I thought you’d appreciate it.”  
“Sometimes even a king wants to look like a hobo, huh?”  
“Sometimes, I just can’t be arsed with all the regalia, yes.” He agrees.  
“You dressed like that back home?”  
“No. Back home I am looking quite splendid. In full royal dress with cloak and helm. I am working out the details for hosting a wedding with the bride and groom. As their King, I will wed them tomorrow.”  
“Tomorrow?”  
“You’re invited. I thought you’d like it.”  
“I’m going to a wedding tomorrow?”  
“Yes. It’ll be about to start when you arrive. I won’t be there for the hand-over, but in my throne room, instead. SHIELD are too jumpy that I’ll turn on them and frankly, I don’t want any embarrassing attempts from them to try and over-power me or whatever. So you’ll be met by Darcy, who’s part of the hand-over agreement.”  
“But the change-over is at the Empire State?”  
“In the foyer.” The God-King nods. “I insisted and SHIELD only put up a token disagreement. I think anyone going in there is prepared to die.”  
“And Miss Potts?”  
“I haven’t heard word yet. She won’t be there.”  
“Okay.”  
You go back to walking in silence.

“So things have changed a lot since I’ve been away, then?” You ask thoughtfully.  
“Why do you ask?”  
“Well, when I was there, no one would have asked you to wed them. They’d have been scared of being lynched.”  
“Things have settled down a lot, yes. The last execution was well over a month ago and I’ve been out among the people, helping where I can. The war effort is pretty much running itself now, I have access to funds and I pay very good wages. Give the families of the soldier’s preferential treatment. Free healthcare and so on.” He waves a hand vaguely. “I am a very good employer.”  
“Now you’ve used up the stick, you’re coating the carrot with sugar?” You ask.  
“They are my people, my subjects. I have a duty to them. Just because the royalty and higher classes of Midgard forgot those lessons does not mean Asgard has discarded them.”  
“So you care about them?”  
“The rebuild has been profitable for all, yes. There is electricity and running water and every apartment that has residents has been made fit for purpose. No one sleeps in tents or shacks anymore and every inhabited building has four solid walls.” He glances at the moon again. “I made it a priority once all the dissenters were disposed of.”  
“You killed millions of people.”  
“And I saved millions more.” He looks down at you. “None in New York will ever live in poverty, as you did. None will ever wonder if their house will be taken away at a month’s notice. None will have to choose between staying warm this winter or filling their stomachs. For those that bend the knee, I provide all they could wish.”  
“Except they can’t leave…”  
The God-King goes quiet.

“Not yet. No.” He agrees, eventually. “Such is the price of war.”  
“Then why have a war at all, if it costs so much?” You ask.  
“You know I have no choice.”  
“We all have a choice.”  
“If that choice is to do what one is told or to die, then one does not have a choice. You of all people should understand that.” He said, his voice harsh, but not angry and you look away, ashamed.  
“I know.” You say, your voice small. “I’m sorry.”  
He steps in front of you and stops, forcing you to halt as well. He looks down at you and you shiver at that horrible, impassive expression.  
“I’m sorry.” You say again, a soft plea in your voice. He tilts his head and then nods.  
“Apology accepted.” He moves to let you pass and you both start to walk again.

“I just…” You let out a heavy breath. “Did you have to kill him?”  
“Yes.”  
“In that way?”  
“Yes.”  
“Betraying him like that?”  
“Child.” And there is an undisguised threat in the word. “Stop this. Now.”  
You look away again.  
“I was looking forward to seeing him again…” You say, choking up a little. “You don’t understand, half of the stuff that’s happened to me, in HYDRA and the Carrier and now, here in the observatory… I could get a handle on it because I thought I was going to get to tell him. Get his opinion on it. Have him be there for me…”  
“And I cannot do these things?” The God-King asks.  
“Not in the same way. I don’t mean to offend, but you’re strict. You make me follow your rules. And that isn’t all bad, not really, but… with Mr Stark, it was just… peaceful. He didn’t expect anything of me. It was nice.” You pause considering. “And… and…”  
“Yes?”  
“Half the stuff I worry about is stuff you’ve done to me, so…” You swallow heavily. “You don’t really count as a confident.” You wince, waiting for him to get angry, but it doesn’t come. Instead he just glances at the moon again and continues walking calmly beside you.  
“I suppose not.” He agrees. 

“Couldn’t you have just told me what you were doing to me? With the wires and everything? Finding out in HYDRA… I nearly got my throat ripped out when they tried to take the collar off…”  
“I was going to tell you, in time. You weren’t ready to learn it when the Captain let you escape.”  
“When would have I been ready? When the wires were all the way inside of me?”  
“I was monitoring you closely. I would have known when the time was right. I did not plan to keep it from you, I just didn’t want to burden your mind. You were suffering so much already, coping with so many new things. You needed time to acclimatise.”  
“Yeah well, it didn’t really work out like that, did it?”  
“No. Some things we just cannot plan for.” The God-King looks down at you. “But I was going to tell you.” He says, his voice completely sincere.  
“Okay. I believe you. Still not too happy though.”  
“A fair assessment. These last few months have been unfortunate for you. A larger than average life learning curve, having to commit murder against you will and stepping up your magic tuition beyond what I had planned for you. But I am proud of what you have achieved. Do not forget it.”  
“You’re proud of me?”  
“As only a master can be with a clever and inventive student.”  
“So you are going to take me under your wing, then? Teach me magic?”  
“Well, it’s a little late to back out now, isn’t it?” He smiles and gives a little laugh. “You’re at the stage where you’d be a danger to yourself and others if I stopped. Knowing just enough to be creative, but not enough to control it properly.” He reaches out, his hologram fingers creating static in your hair as he ruffles it. “You are at a very tender and vulnerable stage and I have a duty of care to see you through it.” 

“You’re really big on the Duty of Care stuff, aren’t you?”  
“We have to remain mindful of others. Especially when you are of a royal house. You wield great power and you have to learn to temper it. And here on Midgard I have to be even more mindful of those I rule.”  
“Because we squish at the slightest touch?” You ask and he frowns.  
“That sounds like a quote.”  
“It is. From a computer game. It doesn’t matter.”  
“No. Probably not. But it is an accurate depiction. I am much stronger than you, much faster, much more resilient. I could do a lot of damage if I let myself go. But then, you know that too.”  
“Yeah, I know.” You start looping back towards the house. 

“Why didn’t you kill those soldiers, at the silo? They couldn’t have been that big a bargaining chip and you wasted a lot of time taking them over.”  
“I was going to slaughter them all, but at the last moment, I decided on mercy.”  
“But why go to all that trouble?”  
“As a statement I suppose. That I was so unthreatened by SHIELD that I would take the time to kidnap them during a battle.” The God-King shrugs. “I didn’t really think about it. It just seemed a fun idea at the time. Plus, Thor was watching and I wanted to give him something to think about.”  
“You gave him plenty to think about.”  
“I’m sure I did.” And the God-King grins in genuine pleasure. “I like being unpredictable, whenever possible. I have already removed the Sceptre from their hearts, they will be fully recovered by the morning.” 

“Your dad’s a dick.” You say, suddenly changing the subject to see how the God-King will react.  
“Yes he is.” He agrees without missing a beat. “But he means well.”  
“Yeah. I kinda got that too.”  
“So the meeting went well?”  
“Kinda. Thor’s been pretty much ordered to return me to you. That when the wires reach their full growth, I’ll need you to tie them off and stop them killing me.”  
“Good, I was hoping he’d say that. Anything else I need right now?”  
“The Bifrost is still down, but they’re going to try and bring in reinforcements anyway…”  
“And about you and your condition? What did you find out from him?”  
“About the wires? Nothing that I didn’t already know, really.” You shrug. “He gave me some history, about the Jotan war and stuff, but other than that… He confirmed that you can control me from distance, that I can hold stuff in my wires, that you can fuck me up whenever you want… Same old, same old… And then he went off to have a private word with Thor and Jane, but I didn’t get to hear any of it.”  
“That’s a shame.”  
“They don’t want to hurt me – I think they pity me. But they don’t trust me either.”

“Never accept anyone’s pity.” The God-King says sternly.  
“Hey, if it’s that or a cell, or a magic collar, or a hammer in the face, I’ll take it.” You look up to get your bearings and change direction slightly so you’re more in line with your room. “And they don’t pity me right out in front of me, so I’m fine with it.” You glance up at the stars and sigh. “I am just fifteen, after all, and I walked head-first into an alien war and got caught right in the middle. That’s a pity party right there. They all think what they went through when they were fifteen and then look at me and, I guess, they can’t help but feel pity and relief in equal measure.”  
“I’m not that bad a master.” The God-King says reproachfully and you look at him.  
“Never said you were.” You say diplomatically and he snorts in disbelief. “But they think you are, and that’s what counts.”  
“You use their pity to make sure you’re safe?”  
“Yeah. That’s about it.”  
“Then I approve.” The God-King nods. “Learning how to emotionally manipulate for survival is very important.”  
“Gee, do I know that one.” You say and you grin at him.  
“Whelp.” But he smiles.

The rest of the walk is held in companionable silence. You have other questions, but they can wait. You’d rather have the quiet than push him too far. Not tonight of all nights. And his company is soothing, a peaceful, protective presence. He’s having a good night, so you’re having a good night as well. He’s just there to make sure you’re all right, nothing more. It’s nice of him to care.  
“Wait.” He says as you’re about ten feet from your room. You stop dead and reach out with your radar. The guards are still in the building.  
“It fine, there’s no one near my window.” You go to walk forward.  
“Wait.” He snaps. “Can’t you feel it? There’s something wrong.”  
You look at him blankly.  
“Damn it, child. No warrior instinct.” He shifts his weight forward, ready to spring and tilts his head listening to something you can’t hear. “You should not go back in, at least not into your room.”  
“I can get in through the kitchen window. It’s on the other side of the building, though.”  
“Can you see into the main lounge from there?” He asks.  
“Yes.”  
“Then that would be ideal.” 

It takes around ten minutes to scoot around to the back, especially since the God-King keeps pausing to listen to whatever it is he’s detected, before nodding for you to continue.  
You both crouch at the window looking in.  
“I can’t go any further.” The God-King says. “Not without bringing Thor down on us.”  
You can see three of the five soldiers, they’re around Filo and seem to be arguing. The old man has that patient look on his face that tells you he’s in bad trouble.  
“I can’t make out what they’re saying, but it doesn’t look good.” You say and the God-King shrugs.  
“They are waiting for you to come back. They’ve already searched your room and found you missing. Two of them are near your door.”  
“How do you know?”  
“Because that one is complaining about it at length.” The God-King points to one of the soldiers.  
“You can lip read?”  
“Yes, but my hearing is also very acute.” He goes quiet.  
“Damn.” He says softly.  
“What?”  
“They’re HYDRA.”  
“What!?”  
“And…” The God-King raises his hand to silence you. “They have orders to kill or capture both you and Filo. They know they only have tonight. We have to leave.”  
“No! We have to save him!”  
The God-King looks at you and sighs.  
“I cannot do anything, if Thor finds out I’m here I risk losing you forever. And these soldiers are waiting for you, the element of surprise is not on your side. Filo would not want you to risk your life for his. This is the way an assassin dies, child. Alone and outnumbered.”  
“Oh… Just fuck you.” You spit at him, angrily. “You took Mr Stark from me, you’re not making me watch Filo die, as well.”  
“I can’t go in there and you should not try to save Filo alone. You have been lucky before, but these soldiers are waiting for you. Your childish tricks will not work.”  
“But you could take them out, right?”  
“Easily.”  
You heft your daggers, moving the harness so that it feels more secure.  
“Show me how.” 

*

The room is well lit and with few hiding places. But you’re small and the God-King understands stealth in ways you couldn’t imagine. His knowledge is vast and you feel the echoes of his instincts in your mind with each careful step you take forward. You’re not connected, after the whole Darcy incident Thor has completely overhauled the wards. Anything with active magic from the God-King will set them off. So instead he’s used the last parts of Thor’s strength in your bloodstream to enhance your mortal abilities and implanted a few salient pieces of useful knowledge seemingly straight into your hindbrain to help your body cope with the changes. Ultimately the magic is powered by Thor and so doesn’t set off the wards when you slip into the kitchen. And the God-King is watching everything carefully. If HYDRA do get the drop on you, if you don’t die, they won’t have you for long. 

You’re not making any noise at all, your foot-falls are so silent, it’s eerie. Your feet know exactly how to move to distribute your weight perfectly. Your body feels lighter as well, more flexible and responsive. Your reaction time was good before, but now, with the God-King’s soft promptings it’s better than ever. You never knew how clumsy you were, how loosely you were in control of your own muscles. Now you feel powerful, your every movement precisely as you want it to be, your actions smooth and skilful, ready to react at a moment’s notice. You know it can’t last, that your brain and body can’t keep up this heightened synchronisation. Human’s aren’t built for this level of precision. But it gives you a deeper insight into the God-King. Is this how he feels all the time? Or is this just a fraction of what an Asgardian body can do? No wonder the God-King’s so damn arrogant. Who wouldn’t be? 

There are other things mixed in with this slight enhancement of your skill-set. Emotional connections that you can feeling murmuring in the background. A lean almost-hunger for the clash you are about to have, a deep warrior need for blood and battle. Something so deeply ingrained into the God-King’s training that it echoes with the temporary knowledge he has given you. He needs this rush, this boost of adrenaline, it’s a drug he craves and cannot escape from. You feel the urge of the killing-high shimmering through your body, tense and eager and almost desperate. A proof of worth that goes far deeper than any battle, a longing to show your skill, to stand with the other warriors. A yearning you can almost taste on your tongue. 

“Damnit, is that kid even coming back?” One of the soldiers asks as you close in, circling carefully so that your first attack will be from behind. Your mind is processing everything as you move into position, working out their fields of vision and their blind spots. Knowing where you can step to get in close without any of them seeing you. You can already feel the soft tug of fatigue as your brain works all this out, changing the parameters from second to second as the soldiers move around and your body reacts accordingly. Being even slightly Asgardian is incredible! But already you can feel the headache coming on. Soon you will have to discard this new found power, you’ve got maybe two or three minutes, tops, before you have to reject what the God-King has given you or you’ll crash, big time.  
“They’ll be back. They don’t want to piss off their protectors. Especially not the Prince. We’ll have time.” The second soldier says calmly. The third is pacing impatiently, which is why you’ve had to circle around so far to get in close. He’s moving around enough that he might see you otherwise. He stops abruptly and glares at Filo.  
“Maybe we should just cap the old guy and go looking. They’ll have left footprints, right?” He asks, gesturing with the silenced pistol at the cuffed man on the chair. Filo doesn’t even blink, he just looks at them calmly, waiting, as ever, for his opening.  
“Might be a good idea. You think we should stand down the Asset?” The first one asks.  
“Not yet. Not until the job is done.” The second says gruffly and they all nod is agreement.  
Asset? You reach out experimentally, but you can’t feel either Pietro or Wanda anywhere nearby. You wonder who or what they’re talking about.  
You just get within striking distance of the first soldier when the third loses patience.  
“Screw this.” He walks up to Filo, lifts the silenced gun to the old man’s head and clicks off the safety.

Filo moves at the same time you do. He’s already picked his cuffs and they fall away as he ducks, rolling fluidly from the chair. The pistol goes off, firing into empty space. Filo comes up, his palms pressed together, his fingers rigid and he slams the tips hard into the man’s throat. At the same moment, your slide your blades from the sheathes and bring them up, striking at the first soldier’s vulnerable back. The knives begin to vibrate as they shear through his armour, slice through his ribcage and pierce his heart in a single fluid action. They pull out again effortlessly and the body slides to the floor. 

The final soldier moves in what seems like slow motion. He lifts his pistol towards Filo. The older man is finishing his first foe, taking his head in his hands to break his neck. He won’t be able to get out of the way in time to avoid the gunshot. You leap forward without thinking, your limbs taking you further than you’ve ever jumped in your life before, the God-King’s instincts fuelling your attack. Your first foot slams hard into the soldier’s solar-plexus as the blade in your left hand comes up smoothly, ready to strike. Your other foot hits his sternum as you use your momentum to climb his body. At the precise moment, your poised blade comes down in a single, glorious arc, taking him solidly in the eye and driving the point deep into his brain. You push back as the soldier’s body starts to fall, using him as a spring board to flip backwards in a graceful semi-circle and you land neatly on the ground, both blades hooked against your forearms, ready for the next attack. You’re hardly even breathing hard and you’ve never felt this alive. You didn’t even know you could flip like that. Having Asgardian reflexes is so fucking cool!  
Filo looks at you steadily, seems about to say something and then just shakes his head.

“There are two more.” He tells you instead and you nod.  
“Hey!” They come around the corner at that moment and the first takes an Asgardian blade to the throat. Filo doesn’t seem to react at all, but it’s because you’re so much faster. You close the distance in two steps, grab the silenced pistol in the second soldier’s hand and flip the safety back on.  
“What?” They pull the trigger twice before realising what’s happened. They give you a stunned look. You grin, flush with this new power and leap again, feeling the blade in your hand as you prepare to bring it up in a single handed swipe that will cut them in half.  
“No. We need one alive!” Filo shouts and you change your trajectory. You grip your victim on the shoulder with your free hand as you reach the apex of your jump, swinging them around with your body weight and making them stagger, lose their footing and fall forward. You flip the blade, catch the tip neatly and bring the hilt down hard on the back of the soldier’s head, just as their forehead smacks off the ground. You land hard on their back, your knees bringing them flat against the floor. They groan, still awake, but badly hurt and you press your palm against the side of their head to knock them out cold. Your minds touch and with a start you realise it’s the female soldier who helped you make the coffee. In the heat of battle, you hadn’t even noticed who she was… You’d have killed her without a thought…  
It’s like a face full of cold water on your warm fuzzy killing-high. As she loses the fight and slips into unconsciousness, you feel the Asgardian strength fade from your limbs.

“Shit.” You shiver with reaction. “Now I know how the God-King feels after a battle.” You look at Filo. “No wonder he likes torturing people afterward…”  
“Some sort of enhancement spell?” Filo asks, moving to secure her with his own cuffs.  
“Yeah, he used the remnants of Thor’s blood in my system to boost my abilities. It’s gone now though, it was only for this fight, so I could save you. I think, long term, it would turn my mind to jelly.” You gesture towards the kitchen window. “The God-King’s hologram is outside.”  
“Why am I not surprised?”  
“We need to get out of here. You heard what they said about an Enhanced?”  
“I did. We do. But first we secure her, so when you return you will not get into trouble for helping me.”  
“Oh.” You bite your lip. “Yeah. I guess that makes sense.”  
You help Filo get her onto the seat. Together you secure her far better than Filo was held. You touch your circle to her forehead again and make it so she can’t wake up until you return.  
“She won’t come to until I get back.” You tell him in explanation and Filo nods.  
“That is for the best. We do not want her making up stories in your absence.” He walks over to the front door and chooses a warm jacket from the coat-rack. “I assume you do not want one?” He asks and you grin and shake your head.  
“Nah, I’m good. Come on, let’s get out of here. Before something even nastier comes knocking.”  
“Lead the way.” Filo gestures and you take him to the window. 

Filo drops to one knee as soon as he’s outside in the snow.  
“Your Majesty.” He says politely.  
“Good evening, Filo, Son of No One.” The God-King smiles. “It looks as if I am helping you escape this night.”  
“And I am grateful for your aid.” Filo says smoothly.  
“You may rise.” The God-King says graciously and Filo gets back to his feet.  
“Thank you, Majesty. I look forward to being in your service.”  
“Any idea where we should be headed?” You ask, a little impatiently and the God-King shakes his head at you in mild disapproval.  
“You need to get to the church.” He says. “There is a pathway there.”  
“One of your secret Bifrost ways?”  
“Yes.” He nods. “I will walk through and meet you there in person. So that I may take Filo with me to New York.”  
“Sounds good.” Filo says. “I look forward to seeing your magic first-hand.”  
“I’m going to have to leave you.” The God-King says. “Creating the pathway is very draining. I can’t open the bridge and maintain a presence here.” He makes a face. “And I have to make my excuses to the happy couple. I’ll be a quick as I can.” His hologram disappears abruptly.  
“Happy couple?” Filo asks as you start to lead him around the building.  
“He’s officiating a wedding tomorrow.”  
“Really?” Filo smiles. “I hope I’m invited.”  
“I’ll make sure of it.” 

*

You love these Norwegian nights. It’s going to be the thing you miss the most about returning to New York. The soft, cool crispness and the way the pines rear up into the sky as you enter a wooded area for cover. It’s all so very beautiful. You’ve got your mind radar on and roving around while Filo’s eyes flicker across the landscape, ready and waiting for trouble, a silenced pistol held expertly in his hands. You both tense and hit the ground at the first explosion, both crouched and ready for combat. When the second firework lights the sky, you both relax slightly.  
“It’s the vigil.” You say quietly.  
“Fireworks for Tony Stark?” Filo asks and you laugh.  
“Yeah, I guess it fits him perfectly.” 

And that’s when he hits you.

Filo takes a blow to the head and, as he reels, your attacker lifts and throws him, sending him backwards through the trees. Then your enemy is on top of you. He’s big, strong and you barely get a look at him before his hands are on you. He doesn’t show up on your radar! It’s like he has no mind at all. You lift your hand instinctively to protect yourself as he pins you and your fingers close around cold metal. He has a metal arm! A fricking metal arm. You scream in rage and fear and loose the electrical charge in your palm straight into the flexing silver of his bicep. The man pulls back, he makes no sound, but it’s obvious he’s in pain, his metal arm shudders and the fingers clench tightly. He glares at you from beneath his wild brown hair, his face is masked but there’s no expression in his eyes. Just a cold intensity. Shit, all you’ve done is piss him off…

He slams his other hand into his arm as if brute power will fix it as Filo hits him from the side. They roll, moving so fast you can’t keep up. You wish you still had your reflexes, but the loss of them has made you a little slower than normal as a result. Your brain is still trying to synchronise in the same way and your body can’t keep up. You can’t help Filo in hand to hand, there has to be another way… 

The gun. Filo must have dropped it when the man hit him. The gun, the gun. You scrabble away in the snow to find it. You can hear them fighting as you hurry between the trees to where Filo must have landed. Does Filo have a chance? You don’t know, but that guy is at least as strong as Captain America. HYDRA has more Enhanced Assets, why didn’t they tell you? For the same reason you’re fighting him right now. Back-up in case you escaped. You still can’t feel his mind. Filo is lit up, bright and fiercely intelligent, but the other guy just isn’t there at all. It’s like he isn’t thinking, just acting. You refine your search parameters, using Filo to track him and slowly you uncover a cold mind, blocked and thoughtless. You can’t penetrate it, there aren’t any surface thoughts, and nothing behind them. He isn’t shielded, he isn’t a person at all, just a set of instructions. The second you stop looking he vanishes from your radar again. This is going to make things difficult…  
Your fingers close around the gun. 

The first two shots go wild and the third hits him in the metal arm. But he’s already pulling back, moving into the trees as the fourth shot misses his head by a fraction of an inch and embeds in the tree next to him instead.  
“Shit.” You walk forward, your gun trained on where he disappeared, just in case he makes another attack. Filo stumbles and falls, giving a small sigh of relief.  
“Thank you. I wasn’t going to win that fight.” He says weakly. “In fact, I think I may have already lost.”  
He’s bleeding heavily from the head, his left wrist is twisted at a funny angle and might be broken. But he way he’s breathing, with a strange little wheeze, gives you most cause for concern.  
“The church isn’t far.” You say, crouching down and pulling his arm over your shoulders. “We can get you medical attention in New York.”  
“I’m too old for this.” He grumbles. “For going hand to hand with an Enhanced. Even if I was young, this would be difficult, but now…” He sighs. “Only my experience saved me.”  
“Look, he’s not on my radar. I think he’s brainwashed or something. I can’t track him. I need you to focus, Filo. Your better at this than me. I’ll get us to the church, but I need you to warn me, okay?”  
“Yes, okay, fine. I can do that.” Filo laughs and then coughs. “Give me the pistol.”  
You hand it to him and he gives it a quick check, then nods in readiness.  
“There are enough left in the magazine, you didn’t waste too many.”  
“I’ve never been trained with a gun. I was just hoping to drive him off.”  
“Then you did well.” Filo staggers forward with you. He’s light and easy to help along, you head determinedly for the church. 

“Don’t let him overwhelm you.” Filo says suddenly.  
“What?”  
“Your Asgardian King, don’t let him overwhelm you. Remember who you are.”  
“I know who I am.”  
“So keep it, in your core, hold it close like the warmth of a fire. Don’t ever let him take it.”  
“Filo, what’s going on?” You ask, worried, and he sighs.  
“I’m not going to make it, child. That first blow… It fractured my skull and when we were fighting… I think he’s damaged me internally. He was far too strong for me, but I was buying you time. You need to get to your King for protection. The other’s will be too late to save you now.”  
“The God-King will save you.” You say doggedly and he laughs and winces.  
“I might meet him again, but I won’t make it to New York.”  
“Come one. Don’t say that…”

“Child, listen to me. You are sweet, you are strong and you are fair. He’s going to turn you into even more of a weapon than you are now. And then he’s going to point you at his enemies. You see the one who attacked us? He is HYDRA. The Winter Soldier. They keep him on ice and they rip out his mind and he is what remains when they send him on assignments. It is what you could become. It is what I was for a very long time until I learned how to break the conditioning. Do not let your King do that to you. Keep your mind, keep your sense of self. Do not make my mistakes.”  
“But he can get in my head…”  
“You think he is the first to do these things? No. We are not as refined, but we have been playing with people’s minds for centuries. Turning them into soldiers, into weapons, into slaves. At some point you allow it to happen, you break, you say you can’t take anymore and you let them do what they want. But it is a fight you must keep fighting, no matter how hard it is. Because the rewards are worth more than you could know and failure is a terrible thing.”  
“Filo…” You say quietly. “…He could wipe my mind if he wanted, just wipe it out of existence.”  
“Then why hasn’t he done so? Just because he can, doesn’t mean he will. He needs you aware and clever, he cannot teach the ways of magical war to someone with no wits. You are more than a pawn – you have the potential to be something terrible. I have seen it with my own eyes, the things you can do, the things you can contain. The raw power you can wield. But ultimately, if you do not hold your own mind, if you do not keep your own will, you will never be anything other than a weapon used by others.” Filo coughs and blood splashes on his hand. 

“I tell you from experience, from one who has grown old. Do not let others control you. Do what you must to survive, yes, always – but always keep yourself in your heart. Never let them take who you are.”  
He turns suddenly, his gun in his hand and several shots whistle out past your ear and into the treeline.  
“Ah, missed.” He swears in Russian. “But he is still kept at bay.”  
“We’re going to hit open ground in a minute.”  
“It will not phase him. Just keep going.”  
“Okay.” 

You can see the church from the trees, but it’s still two hundred metres away. Up a hill. This is going to be fun. You’ve reached it from the opposite side from where you trained with Thor, having to go through the treeline to keep the people at the vigil from seeing you. The fireworks are still going off, staining the crumbling brickwork in greens and golds and reds. It’s absolutely beautiful, a fitting tribute to Mr Stark and you wish you had the time to enjoy it. Rather than this crazy cat-and-mouse with a terrifying brainwashed monster trying to kidnap you.  
Being an Asset sucks ass.

You push harder, moving faster as you exit the treeline as close as you can to the start of the hill. Filo sends out a flurry of shots and you see the shadow of the Winter Soldier as he tries to work out a way to get at you without taking a bullet from Filo’s steady hands. As it is, he remains in the trees.  
“Be ready, he may have orders to terminate if he cannot capture.” Filo says, his voice getting weaker, his rasping breaths getting worse. “If that is the case, he is probably armed.”  
“If HYDRA can’t have us, no one can?” You say grimly as you reach the incline.  
“Precisely.”  
“This gets better all the time.”  
“My clip is almost empty. You didn’t find any of the extra magazines in the snow by any chance? They fell from my pocket when I hit the ground.”  
“Nope. Just the gun.”  
“Then let us hope he cannot count.”  
“Better all the time.” 

You’re halfway up the incline when the Soldier just comes running at you. Filo fires three shots in rapid succession, but the Winter Soldier just raises his metal arm to block the first and starts zig-zagging to dodge the other two. You push harder, you have to reach the church, or Filo won’t make it. But the Soldier’s fast, he’s closing in on you both in record time. Just as he’s about to reach you, you shove Filo to the ground and pull one on your blades from your sheathe. You turn to meet him as you pull out the second and he only just dodges the vibrating blade as it sings past his throat. He ducks the second swing and pulls back, his eyes narrowing as he tries to get your measure. He makes for you in a faint and then steps back again as you mirror him. Filo hits the ground, rolls clumsily and then gets on one knee, but can’t get an aim as the Soldier keeps you between him and the gun. You fall back into a half-crouch, ready for the next attack. Filo’s gun barks and it catches the Soldier in the face tearing into his armoured mask, but not penetrating. The second shot misses as he drops to the ground, pulling the ruins of the mask from his face and then he lunges at you. He deflects the first blade with his metal arm, running along its flat so the edge doesn’t bite, making the steel of his arm squeal. He goes for your wrist to make you drop the second. You see what he’s doing and you roll with it instead. Letting his strength push you out of the way, rather than taking you down. You lose the first blade as his arm shoves it from you, but you keep the second and score a heavy hit across his armoured body suit. He slams you hard across the head and you fall, dazed. Filo fires again as the Soldier leaps over your body, heading for the second threat. There are two more shots and then the gun clicks, empty. 

You shake your head and try to rise, the guy hits as hard as the Captain, for sure. You still have one blade in your hand and you scrabble for the second, finding it in the snow. By then your head isn’t spinning so hard and you get to your feet, find your bearings and go after the two struggling figures in the ground. Filo’s losing, big time. He’s still giving as good as he can get, his fingers trying to hit vulnerable spots while he contorts and rolls around to keep the Winter Soldier from getting a good grip on him. Then the Soldier catches him across the face with his metal arm and Filo goes down. He pins the older man to the floor, his hand closing around his windpipe as Filo looks up helplessly.  
“Fuck you!” You scream, leaping the last few feet and aiming to drive the first blade hard into the meat of the Winter Soldier’s thigh. The strike would have been true but your cry warns him and he moves. He has reflexes like lightening. He turns, his human hand coming up and taking you by the throat. He stands, lifting you up over his head, his metal arm still firmly around Filo’s windpipe, dragging the old man to his knees. You struggle kicking and screaming, flailing with the blades, trying to score a blow against him. He takes a single step backwards and throws you, full strength up the hillside. You lose your knives as you try to catch yourself, but fail, hitting the ground hard and howling in agony. 

Something’s broken, something deep inside. You can’t move, you can’t think. Somewhere further down the hill you can heard Filo screaming to the crunch of broken bones. The Winter Soldier’s voice is soft and frightening as he tortures Filo for what he knows. And the fireworks keep coming, keep lighting the sky.  
And you can’t move. It hurts too much. You can’t help him.  
After what feels like forever, there’s the crunch of boots as the Winter Soldier climbs the hill. He drops Filo’s broken body beside yours and looks down at you.  
“Asset is compromised.” He says to the open air. You guess he’s connected to HYDRA somehow. “Removal order authorised?”  
He walks away, listening to someone you can’t hear. After he’s twenty feet away he nods.  
“Removal as agreed.” He reaches into a pouch at his belt and pulls out a grenade. He flips the catch and you turn, howling as you try to cover Filo with your body. He’s still alive, you can still hear his rasping breath. The God-King can save him, can heal him. He just has to hold on.  
You’ve lost Mr Stark. You can’t lose him as well.

The Winter Soldier throws the grenade. 

There’s a weight over you, a heavy shadow. Then the grenade hits, white and hissing, but it doesn’t touch you. The sparks that hit the ground are like fireworks, like some-sort of badass sparkler. It burns into the soil, smelling of sharp ozone and hot death. But it still isn’t touching you. You look up, curled around Filo’s body and straight into the eyes of the God-King.  
“Are you all right?” He asks softly. “Was I too late?”  
You just look at him.  
“Wait here.” He stands, stepping away from you, his cloak alight with the brightness of the grenade. He strips it off and throws is contemptuously to the ground. He catches a small amount on it on his hand and glares at it as it starts to burn. He whispers a spell that turns it to ash and wipes it away.  
“Well?” He asks the Soldier as he stands there, a good thirty feet away. “What now?”  
The Winter Soldier backs down the hill, watching the God-King carefully. The God-King doesn’t move, but stands over you as the man moves swiftly away. Then the Winter Soldier melts into the treeline and is gone. 

“What is that?” You ask as the God-King turns back to you, crouching down and assessing your injury. The cloak is still burning merrily away, bright as the fireworks and just as pretty.  
“White Phosphorous. If it had touched you, it would have burned you alive. I only just got here in time, it seems.” He gives fleeting smile. “I am made of sterner stuff.”  
“The Winter Soldier?”  
“Ordered to disengage. He had a radio contact, I could hear it buzzing in his ear. HYDRA know they can’t risk losing him to me.”  
“Are you going to go after him?”  
“No. He’ll already be sprinting for the drop zone. I could catch him, perhaps, but you are more important and I cannot be here for long.” The God-King touches you gently and your entire side is filled with warmth. “Some bones are broken, I can do nothing for them, but your sprains I can remove. And I can ease the minor organ damage you have sustained. I can stop the bleeding, encourage them to heal quickly. In a few hours you will be able to walk around again.”  
“What’s broken?”  
“Two ribs. Your left ulna is fractured and the wrist has a two hairline breaks.” The God-King pats you reassuringly. “Nothing that can’t be fixed.” 

“Filo.” You say urgently. “Help Filo.”  
“I cannot.”  
“No. No. You can.” You ignore the pain to turn to the old man. “You promised to take him to New York. You promised!”  
Filo coughs, bringing up blood.  
“There is nothing he can do.” He says softly, gurgling through the fluid on his lips, in his mouth. “I held out for as long as I could. I knew he would kill you. I knew… I knew…”  
“Filo. No…” You pull yourself next to him, ignoring the pain. You shake him, sobbing. “Filo? No, no, no…”  
“Remember what I told you, child.” Filo says urgently. “Remember… how to grow old… how to stay true…”  
You turn to the God-King.  
“Help him!” You scream.  
“I wish I could. But he has far more than a few internal scrapes and bruises.” The God-King stands, looking down the hill, towards the vigil. The fireworks have stopped. “They’ve seen us. We have to leave.”  
“And you’ll help him? In New York?”  
“Child, he isn’t going to make it. He’s already fading. The travel will take ten minutes at the quickest. He has but seconds.”  
“No!” You grab the God-King by the arm as he crouches down next to you. You shake him angrily. “I won’t lose him. I won’t!”  
The God-King picks you up gently and carries you off to one side. He lays you lovingly in the snow.  
“They are coming. You will be safe. We have to go.”

He walks back to the dying old man, breathing his last, but smiling defiantly.  
“I owe you a debt, Filo, Son of No One.” The God-King says softly.  
“The child will live. You owe me nothing.” Filo answers, his voice laced with pain. “I did what I did because I chose to, not for reward.”  
“But I now choose to repay you.” The God-King says gravely. “Hear me. You shall be remembered. You will be taken to New York and laid out as a hero. I shall pay for your funeral and your deeds shall be told to everyone who attends. I will bury you a warrior, your headstone shall hold your name. You shall lie in a marked grave, so that my child may come and talk with you whenever they choose. You did not die in vain. You lived your life an unnamed shadow, an assassin in service to others. But in death, everyone shall know you. You will never need to hide again. Your soul shall bask in the sunlight and you shall be free.” 

And Filo starts to cry.  
“Thank you.” He whispers. “Thank you.”  
“What name shall I place there?”  
“Filo.” And the old man smiles. “Just Filo. None of the other names matter.”  
“Very well.”  
The God-King kneels beside him and takes his hand. Filo holds it tightly. You can hear the rasp of his breathing as he fights for air and then with a final gasp, he loses his grip on life.  
“No.” You moan. “No.”  
The God-King looks up as thunder rumbles through the sky.  
“I will see you tomorrow, child.” He lifts Filo from the ground and walks away towards the church. You’re in too much pain to move to watch him go and he quickly steps beyond your field of vision.  
Everything begins to blur…

*

You’re aware of boots in the snow, a single pair moving quickly towards you.  
“Child.” Thor’s voice is urgent. “Child what happened?”  
“Filo’s gone.” You whisper, choking on your sobs, but you can’t cry.  
“Where. Where has he gone?”  
“Filo’s gone.” You repeat, not able to believe it. He’s gone and Mr Stark’s gone and all your friends are dying, because of you. If you’d just fought the Captain harder, if you’d just refused to leave the Empire State, if you’d screamed or tried to contact the God-King. If HYDRA hadn’t have got you, Mr Stark would be still alive. Filo would never have met you, he’d still be out there, family or not.  
They’re dead because of you.

Your head is swimming and you can’t think straight. You’re aware of other people, of the stretcher being laid out on the ground, of the Prince kicking at the burnt cloak and growling out the God-King’s name.  
“Kid?” It’s Natasha this time. She takes your hand and you grip it as you’re being carried down the hill. “Kid, what happened to you?”  
“Filo’s gone.” You whisper, tightening your hand around hers, squeezing it hard. “He’s gone. It’s my fault, it’s all my fault.”  
“Kid, come one, you’re not making sense. What happened?”  
“He’s gone and it’s all my fault.” Your mind is swimming in the darkness. You don’t know how much longer you can hold on. “Filo’s gone.”  
“Was it HYDRA? Is Filo back with HYDRA?”  
“He’s gone.”  
“Did Loki take him? Kid, who the fuck was using white phosphorous? Kid, we need to know. Are we in danger, are you in danger?”  
“It’s over. It’s all over. Filo’s gone.” You take a deep sobbing breath. “And it’s all my fault!” Your voice breaks, like your body is broken. Broken through and through. You couldn’t save him. You can’t save anyone. Not even yourself.  
“Kid. Kid?”  
But it’s too much, the grief is too much. Everything’s swirling around you.  
The blackness comes to swallow you and you welcome it with open arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I promise *promise* that the next chapter will be happier. This was a single chapter broken down into two, remember? So it's kinda like if Empire Strikes Back over ran by a *lot* and they had to break it down into two movies. It would seem like two really sad movies, but actually it was just one? Does that even make sense?
> 
> Anyway, next chapter is a wedding and this isn't Game of Thrones, so the theme will not be "red".  
> I give you my word.  
> Because, shit, the kid needs a fricking break and I think you guys do too.  
> I know I do...
> 
> Update incoming soon.


	42. Truth and Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I told you.” Natasha says angrily. “I told you that Filo wasn’t allowed to come with you. I should have known you’d try something like this. But killing SHIELD agents…”  
> “They weren’t SHIELD, they were HYDRA.”  
> “Pretty damn convenient excuse, don’t you think?”  
> “Hey!” You snap. “I’m not the one who left us in mortal danger, okay?”  
> “Thor is pissed at you.”  
> “What?” You go quiet again instantly. “Why?”  
> “Because he thinks you lied to him. He thinks you betrayed him to his brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay.
> 
> This whole piece has escalated to become far, far bigger than I originally intended.
> 
> Yesterday I checked how big the next chapter was. I've been pecking at it since the last one, trying to get it sorted. I've not been my usual prolific self, as, well... my country has just imploded. (I'm British.) Which I think as excuses go is a pretty good one. So I've been writing where I can and not really paying that much attention to it. 
> 
> I discovered that I've written 28,737 words of this chapter so far and I haven't even finished it.
> 
> So....  
> I'm going to break it up into small chapters, edit them and put them up over this week and a bit.  
> The death of Tony Stark has not been resolved yet, won't be resolved for a while.  
> I thought it was cut and dry - I was absolutely wrong. Plot-lines have to happen before this resolution can go ahead. A character I thought was just going to be small has become far larger and more important and the Kid's relationship to one of the other Avengers needs some urgent attention.  
> Sometimes this happens to the best of us.
> 
> Sorry to leave that thread hanging, but it's just the way the plot has demanded to be woven. It will get picked up and resolved during this next phase of the story, but this phase is going to be large and consist of many chapters.  
> However, the journey is going to be worth it, that I absolutely guarantee. Some of the chapters are even going to go well for the Kid. It isn't all doom and gloom, it's just going to take longer than expected.

*

You come round to the hum of the Quinjet. You’re sat up, but leaning against the padding on the seat, your head resting on one of those travel pillows that loop around your neck. Your arm’s in a sling and your chest has been bandaged up. You’re feeling more than a little worse for wear.  
“Hey. You’re back.” Natasha walks over to you and grins. “Welcome back to the land of the conscious.”  
“Thanks.” You say without much enthusiasm.  
“You hungry? Not got much in stock, but I can get you a hot pocket of military rations.”  
“That’d be great.” You force a smile as you stomach rumbles. “How long…”  
“Three hours. Your brain just stopped processing. You kept saying that Filo was gone, but that was it and then you shut down completely.” Nastasha goes to a cupboard and pulls out a box of silver packets. “Uhm, chicken, beef or tomato?”  
“Do any of the flavours taste of anything but ass?” You ask and she shrugs.  
“Not really. But the tomato has less dubious lumps of meat in it.”  
“Then I’ll take it.”  
She works the corner and then gives it to you.  
“Give it a few minutes to properly warm up. I’ll be right back.”  
“No rush.” You inspect the packet, see it has a perforated top to pull open and then cradle it as the warmth spreads through the silver foil and across your palms. Natasha disappears to do whatever it is she needs to do.

You’re in one of the compartments, not locked in, but you’re wearing one of the cross-over seat belts that straps your chest and your legs in securely. You pull the pillow off your neck and loosen the straps a little. They’re too tight now you’re sitting up and chafe around the thighs.  
“Back.” Natasha walks over and sits down next to you. “How you feeling?” She hands you a spoon.  
“Probably as good as this meal is gonna taste.” You pull the perforation and take a mouthful of metallic yuck that might be tomato. “Yup, pretty much.”  
“Well at least you’ve still got your sense of humour.”  
“I don’t think that’ll ever go away.” You give her a small lop-sided grin.  
“What happened? On the hill?” She asks and your smile fades. You look away from her.  
“How long until New York?” You say, looking down at the meal and stirring it with your spoon.  
“Another hour or so.”  
“So we don’t have long together.” You take another cringe-worthy mouthful.  
“No.”  
“Thanks for patching me up.” You move the sling so it’s a bit more comfortable.  
“Least we could do. Though the medics say you’re healing far faster than expected. Loki was there, wasn’t he?”  
You look at her sideways.  
“Yeah.” You breathe out heavily.  
“Where did he come from?”  
“Look do we have to talk while I eat? You know I don’t like it.” You don’t want to talk about this, about any of it. The pain is still hard in your mind and you need time to process. But you can tell by Natasha’s expression that the luxuries you enjoyed at the observatory, of people being patient with you and giving you space, are over.  
“We don’t have that much time.” She tells you, pointedly.  
“I don’t want to talk about it.” You grump. “Okay?”  
“No. Not okay.” She shakes her head. “I have to press you on this. Take your time, but I need answers. I deserve a few answers, don’t you think?” 

After a short silence you sigh heavily again.  
“The soldiers were HYDRA. The ones you left behind to guard me and Filo.” You say. “So, thanks for that.”  
“That why you killed them?”  
“Yup. Though I only knocked one of them out. The woman who helped me make the coffee.”  
“No, she’s dead too.” Natasha sounds irritated. “Blood-clot on the brain.”  
You pause mid-mouthful.  
“Shit, Natasha I’m sorry…”  
“So really all we have is your word for it that you weren’t just trying to get Filo out.”  
“I wasn’t.” You pause. “Well, I was, but only after those soldiers attacked us. They tried to shoot Filo in the head.”  
“And there were a lot of your footprints outside your room window.”  
“Yeah, I kinda went for a walk…” You shift uncomfortably.  
“So, you see how it looks…”  
“Come on, there had to be a bullet mark in the wall when they tried to shoot Filo.”  
“They were given orders to shoot him if he tried to escape, you know that.” Natasha looks at you sternly. “So it doesn’t mean a lot.”  
You look down at your food, suddenly you’re not all that hungry.

“I told you.” Natasha says angrily. “I told you that Filo wasn’t allowed to come with you. I should have known you’d try something like this. But killing SHIELD agents…”  
“They weren’t SHIELD, they were HYDRA.”  
“Pretty damn convenient excuse, don’t you think?”  
“Hey!” You snap. “I’m not the one who left us in mortal danger, okay?”  
“Thor is pissed at you.”  
“What?” You go quiet again instantly. “Why?”  
“Because he thinks you lied to him. He thinks you betrayed him to his brother.”  
“Is he… Is he here?” You look around nervously.  
“No. He’s getting Jane to a new safe location. And we got you out before he came back.” Natasha sighs. “You know what Asgardians are like, once they get an idea in their head… His dad thinks you’re toxic, too. He said we shouldn’t give you back. That we should let you die…”  
“No.” You say, almost pleading. “You’re not going to let him…”  
“That’s why we’re here. Another hour and it’ll make no difference. But you have to tell me, kid. Filo, where is he?”  
“He’s dead.” You say swallowing heavily. “I saw him die.”  
“Then, where is he?”  
“In… In New York. The God-King took him back with him.” You bite your lip. “You can ask to see the body. I’m sure he’ll allow it.”  
“Kid, that isn’t good enough.”  
“It’s all I’ve got.” 

“Miss Romanov?” The pilot calls out from the cockpit. “We’ve got a problem.”  
“What kind of problem?” Natasha swings out of her seat and heads towards the front.  
“Uhm…” The pilots voice becomes strained. “An Asgardian one…?”  
Then you hear the thunder in the sky.  
“Shit.” You hit the button holding the seat belt on and stagger out of the seat. “Shit!”  
“Kid, get back in the seat. We’re going to have to go evasive.”  
“Too late.” The pilot shouts and there a loud noise on the ceiling. Like someone’s landed on the roof of the plane. You fall to the floor in a crouch, your eyes wide with fear.  
“Natasha, you’re not going to let him take me, right?”  
“Don’t open the hatch.” Natasha says and you give a little cry of relief.  
And then the hammer comes down on the roof, leaving a massive dent and knocking the electrical wiring free. Something blows in a shower of sparks and you’re thrown into darkness. The Quinjet pitches.  
“Do we have emergency power?” Natasha shouts as you scream with terror.  
“Getting it online now.” And the space is bathed in a red glow and the Quinjet evens out.  
“Let him in, or we’re all dead.” 

“No!” You run forward towards the cockpit. “No please…”  
But the hatch is already starting to open. Natasha turns to meet him as Thor strides into the space.  
“We have to do this, Thor. We have to give them back. We can’t let…”  
And Thor hits her.  
You howl as she slams into the bulkhead and lands on the floor, still breathing but stunned.  
“You see what you did? What you made me do?” Thor roars at you as you cower from him.  
“It’s not like you think. It isn’t…”  
“You lied to me!” Thor shouts. “I gave you hospitality and this is how you repay it?”  
“No… No, please…”  
He grabs your right wrist, scowling at the circle and starts to pull you to the exit. You try to stop your forward motion and grab a protruding scaffold, knocked loose by the attack. Thor looks down at you, puts Mjolnir on his belt and takes the scaffold in his hand. It snaps in his grip like brittle plastic. You gape, your utter fear taking your voice away.  
“No more games.” He says, darkly.  
He pulls you to him, takes Mjolnir in his hand again and begins to spin it.  
Then he leaps off the edge and into the thundering storm, while you cling to him in silent terror. 

The sea beneath you roils in the violent weather and the wind howls around you. It’s still night and the clouds are heavy and black. You cling to him desperately, convinced at any minute that he’s going to drop you into the waves. He doesn’t carry you far. There’s an outcrop of flat rock about thirty feet across and twenty feet above the choppy sea level, with nothing but sheer cliff drops around it. He lands and drops you contemptuously. You scramble away from him, until you hit the far edge and then you just look down at the dark waves and you start to shake.  
“Are you going to wet yourself again?” Thor asks as he walks up to you.  
You don’t say anything. You don’t know how to appease him, what he wants or what you have to do for your life. So you just cower on the ground and wait to see what he has planned.  
“Listen well, little one. My father has asked for your death. Even now he watches from the throne of Asgard.”  
You glance up at the sky nervously.  
“There is but one way, you can appease him. Appease me.”  
“Name it.” You say, grovelling on the floor in front of him. “I’ll do it. Anything.” 

Thor crouches in front of you.  
“Give me your hand.”  
You hold out your right hand, your arm trembling. Thor grabs you, mid-forearm, to stop you shaking. His grip is rough, but he doesn’t hurt you. He places a device against your circle, a round piece of metal with a glowing light in the centre. It clicks against the gold on your palm, the small, sharp legs of the device biting into your skin to secure it.  
“This is a Truth Speaker. Jane made it and the Allfather powers it. If you lie to me, it will turn red.” He pauses to give gravity to his words. “And then you will die.”  
You look at him.  
“There are some things I can’t tell you…” You start to say and he growls. He grabs you by your shirt front and lifts you over the edge while you scream in terror.  
“Stop!” You beg him. “Stop.”  
“There is nothing you will not tell me.” He says, his voice hard and unyielding. “Not if you want to survive ‘til morning.”  
“Please. Oh please.” You nod in agreement. “I’ll tell you what you need to know.” 

He pulls you back in, turning you so you face outward, looking down at the sheer drop at your toes.  
“Everything.”  
“Yes.” You agree. “Yes.”  
He steps back, turning you away from the drop and shoves you so you sprawl onto the stone of the island.  
“You have broken our laws, little one. You, who would be Asgardian. Who would walk our halls and share our mead. Now you belong to us.”  
“Everything I have belongs to you.” You agree, desperately.  
“I own your knowledge.”  
“Yes.” You say wretchedly. “Yes.”  
Shit, you’d been so wrong about him. You’d thought he was better than his brother. But he’s just as bad as the God-King.  
“He’ll kill me though.” You say. “If I tell you everything. He’ll kill me.”  
“You’ll call him Loki.” Thor snaps and you nod.  
“Okay, whatever you want.”  
“And what do you think I will do to you?” Thor looks around the bleak landscape. “Perhaps I will not throw you to your death, but leave you here. Alone, with no escape. No one would ever find you.”  
You shiver and nod, looking down at the rock.  
“I belong to you.” You agree. “My life is in your hands. Ask away.” 

“Where is the Traitor Filo?”  
“Dead. The God- Kin…” You look at him. “Loki…” You wince. “Took him back to New York. He’s going to be buried a hero.”  
“Who killed him?”  
“The Winter Soldier. At least that’s what Filo called him. He was big and fast and strong. Enhanced. He had a metal arm. He was…” You swallow. “He was ordered to terminate us both, so he threw the grenade, the white phosphorous, but Loki…” You wince again. “He got there in time to save me. But not… But not Filo. He died of his injuries.”  
“How did Loki know?”  
“I went out for a walk.” You say and Thor scowls. “Look, I’m sorry. I just wanted a bit of privacy. A bit of freedom before I went back. I didn’t mean to cause any harm.”  
“You are an idiot.” Thor snaps and you nod.  
“I’m stupid.” You agree. “I’m a fool.”  
“Continue.”

“The God-Kin… Loki… he… he sent a hologram to check I was okay. After the trip to Asgard to make the connection. He wanted to know if it had been successful and if I was holding up all right.”  
“And you told him what transpired?”  
“Yes.”  
“Traitor.” Thor spits in rage and you curl into yourself.  
“I am.” You agree. “I am. He owns me. I don’t have a choice.”  
“We could have saved you. We could have cut you off from him. We could have found a way to stop the wires.”  
“I know.” You look away. “I’m sorry.”  
“No you’re not. You’d betray me to him again in a heartbeat.”  
You nod, shaking.  
“I would, the hold he has on me… I can’t, I can’t resist him…” You look up at him, pleading. “Please don’t kill me.”  
“That remains to be seen.” 

“What about the soldiers?”  
“They were HYDRA. They were with the Winter Soldier. They were told to capture or kill me and Filo.”  
“You know this for a fact?”  
“Yes.”  
“How?”  
“The God-K… fuck… Loki… he heard them talking and then I did as well, when I went in to save Filo.”  
“You?” Thor’s voice is filled with contempt.  
“Loki used the last of your blood in my veins to enhance me for the fight. I killed two, and knocked out a third. But she died anyway.” You bite your lip. “I didn’t mean to kill her.”  
“But you did not care about murdering the rest?”  
“I had to stop them. Somehow. And they were all armed. They were going to shoot Filo. What could I do?”  
“You could have let them.”  
And you glare up at him with hate in your expression and he narrows his eyes.  
“Shall you have another lesson?”  
“No.” You look away. “Mercy. Mercy, please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. He was my friend. My… My…” You grasp for words. “My shield-brother. Wouldn’t you do the same for yours?”  
“I would, but look at me like that again and I shall break more of your bones.”  
“I won’t. I promise.”  
“There is nothing out here but me, you, Mjolnir and the storm. You would be wise to keep a civil tongue in your head.”  
“Yes.” You agree. “I’m sorry. Continue.” 

“Who does my brother work for?”  
“I can’t tell you.”  
And he strides forward, grabbing you roughly and you scream and you struggle.  
“He’ll kill me!”  
“And I will not?”  
“You think… You think this is bad? Compared to what he’ll do?” You look him in the eye, trying to make him understand. “I’ll die over days, over weeks, going deeper and deeper into myself, going mad with the pain.” You try to push away from him. “Please, you don’t understand…”  
And Thor lifts you like you weigh nothing and throws you over the edge.  
You have the presence of mind to curl into a ball as you hit the waves. They’re choppy enough that the impact is minimal, but you instantly go under. Your sling is a hindrance and the sea too wild to keep your head above water. But you try, you struggle and you struggle, kicking and fighting.  
Then a hand catches your shirt and pulls you from the waves.  
“Had enough?” Thor asks. You cough and you splutter and you cling to him desperately as he carries you up out of the water. You’re not going back to the island, but continue going higher.  
“Who does my brother work for?”  
“I can’t…”  
And he drops you again.

This time the shock of the landing is almost too much. You almost pass out from the impact. But still you try to keep above the waves. Still, you fight for your life and once again Thor plucks you from the water.  
“Who does my brother work for?” He asks as he carries you up.  
“Please…”  
“Who!?”  
“Thor, Majesty, Master… Please…”  
And he drops you again, from so high you know you’re going to die. But he catches you before you hit. He’s toying with you. You’re fucking helpless and he’s playing with you. Fuck them, fuck Asgardians, fuck this war, fuck everything. You’re going to die, if you don’t co-operate now, you’re going to die out here. This alien monster is going to drop you in the sea and leave you to drown, after playing with you for as long as he still gets some laughs out of it.  
You’re a traitor in his eyes, no longer an ally, no longer human. He’ll do what he wants with you. You have nothing left to lose.  
Maybe, if you obey him, he’ll make it quick, show you mercy. It’s the only option you have left.  
You feel Thor’s hands begin to loosen and you completely freak out. You can’t take any more. 

“I’ll tell you!” You scream. “I’ll tell you. But put me back on land.” You cling to him. “Please, please put me back on land.”  
He doesn’t carry you back to the island, but instead he takes you to a small outcropping, hardly big enough for both of you to stand on, but just as high above the waves. You crumple to the floor and sob at his feet, clinging to his leg in supplication.  
“His name is Thanos.” You say, closing your eyes in terror at saying the name that is so forbidden. “And he controls your brother. Loki doesn’t work for him willingly.”  
You shake, bringing up sea water. You heave for a good few minutes and then lower your arms to your sides, too exhausted to do anything else. You hug your sodden bandages and your aching ribs, trying to ignore the way your stomach is dropping out of your body in your terror. You’ve made your choice, you’ve made your bed. The God-King will not forgive this.  
“And now I’m going to die.” You close your eyes. “Now he’s going to kill me.” 

“I have never heard of this Thanos.”  
“I’m telling the fucking truth.” You raise the light. “See. See?”  
“How did he capture my brother?”  
“I don’t know.” Thor shifts and you panic. “I don’t, I don’t. There are several stories, I don’t know which is true.”  
“Loki has been lying to you?”  
“He, he doesn’t know himself. He was tortured into doing what his master wants. He’s confused, his memory is faulty, he’s not sure what’s real and what isn’t.”  
“Tell me the different stories.”  
And you do. Thor listens without comment, giving you no indication either way which is correct.  
“Now tell me about his Master, how does he keep his hold on my brother? Can my brother not break it?”  
“For now he can’t. He’s trying to find a way to get free, to escape. But right now he’s trapped.”  
“Does the Sceptre control my brother as well?”  
“Maybe? I don’t know.”

“What is the plan? Why does my brother wage war on Midgard?”  
“For the Tesseract. Because he was ordered to. He did a deal. His Master will not to burn the Earth to ashes while looking for the Tesseract so long as Loki works towards becoming absolute ruler of Midgard. But in return, Loki has to kill people. He has a quota, his master wants a percentage of the population killed in tribute and…” You close your eyes wincing as your ribs flare again. “…And Loki fills it to save everyone else.”  
“Is it because of me? Is he here for Jane?” And you can’t believe the ego-centric nature of the question. Is he even listening to what you’re saying?  
“No. He’s curious about Jane, who wouldn’t be? But he’s not after her, or you. He’s here by coincidence and circumstance, not because you’re here.” You shiver and throw up again, the taste of metallic tomato on your lips.  
“Then why did he kidnap Darcy?”  
“It was my fault. I should have been more careful. Loki has a secret path nearby the observatory, the church, I think. He arranged to meet me and she followed.”  
“Why did he not take you back to New York?”  
“Because he has stuff he needs SHIELD to have and…” You furrow your brow. “He needs to give it to them in a believable way. In a way his Master would accept. So the trade for me has to go ahead.”  
“Does his Master not know?”  
“He sits in Loki’s head a lot. But not all the time and… and Loki can hide things from him. It’s not like your father on his throne. He isn’t watching like that. He sits in Loki’s mind and controls him. Sometimes he calls him away as well, like completely out of his body and when that happens, Loki comes back insane from the torture.”  
Thor goes quiet. 

“It’s why Loki’s going to have to kill me. Because I’m helping him fight his Master, but if his Master knows this. If he finds out Loki’s trying to betray him… Trying to save the Earth rather than rule it…” You shake your head. “I won’t be able to resist him. I’m not strong enough. The one time our minds met I almost died. But Loki saved me. Protected me from him.” You breathe out slowly. “Loki’s going to have to kill me, because it’ll be kinder – whatever he does, it will be kinder – than what Thanos would do to me… and then do to your brother…” You can’t stop shaking. “If I live now, with all of you knowing as well… There’s too much risk that Loki’s plans will fall apart and…” You close your eyes. “He already has a replacement for me.”  
“Laura.”  
“Yes.”  
“Tell me about her.”  
“She’s my sister. In magic, not in blood. But she’s not like me, she can’t cast spells.”  
“Do you love her?”  
“Yes.” You laugh bitterly. “And I hate her. Loki’s much nicer to her than to me.”  
“Do you know why?”  
“We have different agreements. Ask Natasha, she knows all about it.”  
“I will.” 

“Look… If you don’t mind… Will you make it quick? I’m in a lot of pain here, I think the bandaging on my ribs has slipped and, and…” You move so that Thor has a clear swing for your head. “I can’t go back now, so can you finish me here? Just, just, stave my skull in or something?”  
Thor crosses his arms and shakes his head.  
“You said yourself the deal has to go ahead.”  
“What?!” And you’re half on your feet and gripping at him. “You can’t! You can’t!”  
“I thought you wanted to return.” And Thor’s smiling like he’s just made some big old joke.  
“I won’t be able to hide this from him! I won’t! It’s too big! He’ll know and I’ll die slowly. Fuck!” You hit him, hard in the chest.  
“Is this some fucking joke to you?” You scream. “I just gave you my life!”  
“You did. And I am grateful for the information. I promise it will not go beyond a few high ranking members of SHIELD.”  
“Well that’s a comfort.” You snarl and Thor laughs at you. “What the fuck is your problem?”  
“This Thanos. Where does he reside?”  
“I don’t know, but it’s far.” You pause and think. “Further than Asgard.”  
“Outside of the Nine Realms?”  
“Maybe, I don’t know.”  
“Thank you for this child. Thank you for letting me know there is hope for my brother.” Thor pulls you fully to your feet and holds you around the waist gently. “Let’s get you back to Natasha.”  
“What?” You push against him, but you might as well be trying to move the rock of the island. “What the fuck is this?”  
But Thor takes off without another word.

*

They’re waiting for you off the coast a few miles away. The sun is starting to rise on the horizon and she’s standing there next to a new Quinjet. The second you see the look on her face the penny drops.  
You’re such an idiot.  
“You were never going to kill me. You were never going to let me drown or leave me on that island.”  
“No.” Thor agrees.  
“You were fucking with me to get the information you needed.”  
“I am sorry. Truly sorry. But it was our last chance, my last chance, to find out if Loki was still sane. If he was still my brother.”  
“I hate you.”  
“I know.” And Thor’s voice is filled with sorrow.

He places you gently on the ground and Natasha walks up, taking your arm and checking the breaks. She checks your ribs, nodding as you wince in pain.  
“So, you had to drop them in the sea, then?” She asks.  
“Unfortunately, yes.” Thor sounds like a heel.  
Natasha looks you in the eye, quietly impressed by how long you held out.  
“Did you get what we need?”  
“Yes. I will tell you later.”  
“I told him everything.” You say wretchedly. “I thought I was fucking dead, that I had nothing to lose.” You pull away from her. “Can we get on, please? I’ve got a meeting with another Asgardian who’s actually going to kill me.” You lip trembles, but you’re too angry to cry. Your voice is cold, furious. You barely recognise it.  
“Kid. It’s not going to pan out that way.”  
“It isn’t?” You snarl, your disbelief evident.  
“The device…” Thor looks guilty. “It isn’t a truth detector.”  
You look down at the shining light on your palm.  
“It’s a one use mind wiper.” Natasha says. “So you won’t remember the last hour.”

“What?” You turn on Thor angrily. “Why didn’t you tell me?”  
“He wanted to. I vetoed it. We had to be sure you were telling the truth and, well…” Natasha shrugs. “We know how much Thor scares you. That you’d believe him and spill if he was convincing enough.”  
“His name is Thanos. He kidnapped the God-Kin…” You hiss. “Loki. He kidnapped Loki. After he fell from the Bifrost and was too weak to fight back. He wasn’t at full strength and Thanos had the Sceptre. Loki didn’t have a chance. He’s been tortured, brutalised and forced to work for him. But even then, even after all of that, he stood up for us. He offered to rule to stop Thanos destroying the Earth to find the Tesseract. To stop this whole place going up in flames. And even now he’s trying to fight back, trying to save humanity, all alone and with no back-up. He can’t ask for help, he can’t turn against the fucker in his mind, any more than I can defy Loki or hold him at bay. Yet he’s doing his best, his fucking best, even though, right now, I don’t think we’re worth saving.”  
“Kid…”  
“No. No, I get it. You had to know and it was the perfect time, as well. I was weak, grieving, tired and scared. I was in the perfect mind-frame to buy into the bullshit.” You sigh and walk over to a rock to sit down. “You got any more of that tomato mush? It tastes better than vomit.”  
“Coming right up.” And Natasha goes into the Quinjet.

You look at the light on your palm  
“I know what my name is.” You say and the white doesn’t change.  
“Shit.” You put your head in your hands. “Shit.”  
“Child. I am so, so sorry for what I did.” Thor says, his voice quiet and contrite.  
“Fuck you.” But your voice is tired. “You threw me in the sea.”  
“But I did not harm you.”  
“No. No you didn’t. You just made me think you were going to.”  
“I… I am ashamed. I knew it was the only way… The only chance we had to understand Loki’s plans… But…”  
You sigh and get up. You walk over to him tiredly and you put your good arm around him in a hug. You press your head against his armour.  
“I forgive you.” You say softly. “You did what you had to do for your family. I was never in danger. I forgive you.”  
“Child…”  
“Just shut up and hug me, okay?”  
“I do not deserve this…” Thor says as he puts his arms around you.  
“No, you don’t.” You agree. “But I’m gonna give it to you anyway.”  
“Thank you.”  
“And you owe me a tour of Asgard. When this is all over.”  
“You have my word.”  
“Okay.” You nod and pull away, going back to the rock. “We’re even.”  
The pride on Thor’s face is almost embarrassing.

Natasha comes out with the meal and you eat it without comment. She also has a flask of strong tea she pours out for you.  
“Sorry, this is a British ship.” She smiles as she hands you the mug. “No coffee, just tea.”  
“It’ll be fine.” You nod, spooning the gunk into your mouth rapidly and she puts it beside the rock instead. You’re really hungry.  
“Kid…”  
“It’s okay. Like I told the blonde idiot over there – no hard feelings. I don’t hold it against you.” You sigh. “You needed to know what I knew. And there was no other way I would have told you. But I’m glad I did, for SHIELD, for the Earth. Loki’s not nice and he’ll kill you as soon as look at you, especially now. Now you know, you can never come to New York. He’ll look in your mind and uncover Thanos and then you’ll die.”  
“I get that.”  
“But he’s doing it for the right reasons.” You pause to finish the pack and take the mug from the ground. 

You glance at the rising sun. It gives off very little heat in the chill morning air, hanging cold and yellow on the horizon. Your tone becomes thoughtful. “He’s doing it for you and for Asgard.”  
“For Asgard?” Thor frowns.  
“Yeah, ‘cause once Thanos has an Infinity Stone and a base of operations in the Nine Realms, he isn’t going to just sit on his hands, now is he? And if he can take down Loki, he has a chance at Asgard, no question.” You take a sip of tea. “You know it’s nice to be able to talk about it. I’ve been holding it in for so long…”  
“We can’t talk for much longer, or we’ll go over time.” Nastasha says, her voice filled with apology.  
“I know.” You nod. “Thanks for the meal.”  
“You’re welcome.”  
“We’re even, okay? You don’t owe me anything. I’m mad, but I get it. I forgive you. I know I won’t remember any of this, but right now, while I do… I forgive you for being a dick to me.”  
“I think I’ve got a way of paying you back. But we’ll see how it pans out.” She tells you, her voice betraying her feelings for the first time you’ve known her. Filled with pride and sadness and anger at what she had to do to you.  
“We’re still friends.” You put down the tea and take her hand. “I still trust you.”  
“Kid…”  
“I mean it.” You rearrange your sling. “I know this wasn’t personal, that if there was any other way, you would have took it. I wasn’t harmed, I was never going to be harmed. I trust you.” You look in her eyes, at the conflicting emotions there and then you pull away, standing briskly. “I’m guessing you’re going to dry and dress me again once this mind wiper takes effect?”  
“You’ll be out for about an hour. You’ll be coming into New York when you wake up again.”  
“Okay, makes sense.” You walk over to Thor and put your hand out. “Go on. Do it.” You smile at him. “Save my life.” 

Thor puts his hand on the device and whispers a few words. The light gets brighter and brighter and brighter, until the bulb breaks and the glass cracks. Then the charge fires into your palm, through the metal and into your wiring. You jerk backwards and feel Thor catching you to stop you hurting yourself. It burns like fire through your arm, into your chest and then up into your brain. You meet his eyes as you feel the spell bunch in your mind, ready to do its work.  
“I forgive you.” You say to him again.  
And then you pass out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be just the beginning scene of a larger chapter, which is why it might seem a bit weird and abrupt. But since I need to carve the 28k word monster chapter down into manageable chunks, it made sense to put this out as a stand alone scene. 
> 
> I'm moving house next Friday, (I know, it's all go in my life at the minute) but since the next part is written, it should be up in the next few days as it just needs a bit of light editing. I am now, inadvertently, ahead of myself writing wise. So expect quite a few chapters coming your way in the near future.


	43. Second Time Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hi.” You say, giving a lop-sided grin. “Where are we?”  
> “About twenty miles off the coast of New York.” He tells you and your smile widens.  
> “Cool.” You look around. “How long was I out?”  
> “Over four hours. You took quite a hit back there.” The Director sits down so he’s facing you. “Raving about how Filo was gone, more distressed than I’ve ever seen you be and that’s saying a lot. Then you checked out on us.”  
> Your smile falters, you look away.  
> “Want to tell me about it?”  
> “No, not really.”  
> “Mind if I tell you?”  
> “Uhm…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still here, still writing. :)
> 
> Moved house now and up to my elbows in boxes, but taking the time to get this out to you, as I'm away all weekend.  
> So I've broken the massive chapter into three, this being the second installment.  
> I haven't really got that much to say this time round.  
> Just hope you enjoy it.

*

You come round to the hum of the Quinjet. You’re sat up, but leaning against the padding on the seat, your head resting on one of those travel pillows that loop around your neck. Your arm’s in a sling and your chest has been bandaged up. You’re feeling more than a little worse for wear. Emotionally as well as physically. For some reason your mouth tastes metallic, with the vague hint of tomato. Must be the way you were sleeping or something. Last time you cried yourself to sleep your mouth felt fluffy and metallic from the mucus. Did you cry yourself to sleep? You’re not sure, but that’s probably what happened. The pain of Filo’s death flashes in the back of your mind and you swallow heavily. Yeah that’s probably what happened. 

You’re in one of the compartments, but not locked in. You’re wearing one of the cross-over seat belts that strap your chest and your legs in securely. You pull the pillow off your neck and loosen the straps a little. They’re too tight now you’re sitting up straight and chafe around the thighs.  
“Well, looks who’s decided to check back in.” The Director smiles at you from across the gangway. You look up and smile back.  
“Hi.” You say, giving a lop-sided grin. “Where are we?”  
“About twenty miles off the coast of New York.” He tells you and your smile widens.  
“Cool.” You look around. “How long was I out?”  
“Over four hours. You took quite a hit back there.” The Director sits down so he’s facing you. “Raving about how Filo was gone, more distressed than I’ve ever seen you be and that’s saying a lot. Then you checked out on us.”  
Your smile falters, you look away.  
“Want to tell me about it?”  
“No, not really.”  
“Mind if I tell you?”  
“Uhm…”

The Director reaches into an inside pocket of his leather coat and pulls something out. He straightens it in his hands and you recognise the face mask the Winter Soldier was wearing. You can see the bullet mark where Filo hit him, clear as day.  
“This was worn by the person or persons unknown who attacked you, right?” He says. “This is armoured and the bullet didn’t punch all the way through.” He touches the mark. “But this was made by a SHIELD issue bullet, from a SHIELD issued gun...”  
“… Yeah...” You say reluctantly.  
“I don’t need you to tell me anything. I just need you to confirm a few things. I’m a spy, I can assess situations pretty accurately. But it’s good to have some eyes on the ground that can straighten a few things out, you get me?”  
“Yeah.” You nod, you look around the space, you sigh and look back at him. There’s no way out of this, might as well get it over with. You nod again. “Fire away.” 

“So, this face mask is worn by an Asset that we know very little about, other than a few vague reports from operatives, most of whom were dying at the time. As far as I know you and Filo are the first to survive one of his attacks.”  
“Not Filo. Filo’s dead.” You cut in and the Director raises an eyebrow. “I’ll tell you after you’re finished.” You say hurriedly and the Director nods.  
“Now. They’re called the Winter Soldier and they are part of HYDRA’s arsenal. They strike infrequently and without warning and then fade back into the background and we have very little knowledge about them or how they operate. Before we realised that HYDRA was alive and well and hiding in SHIELD, we thought the Winter Soldier had been found by an assassination agency and used as a freelance operative. We now know this isn’t the case.”

He puts the mask down on the seat and pulls out another piece of cloth, this time from the God-King’s cloak.  
“Thor confirms this is Asgardian cloth. It has to be, nothing on Earth would come out this intact after being doused in white phosphorus. So we know that Loki was also there. How he knew to be there is in dispute, but we know you left your room shortly after the vigil started. We tracked your prints, you went for a walk and then went in through the kitchen, not back to your room. After that there are more tracks, you and Filo’s and signs of one almighty fight while you both make a bee-line for the old abandoned church and another set of boots following you, tracking you. Big boots, so we’re guessing that was the Winter Soldier. We know about Loki having secret pathways and an old Norse church makes sense to have one. We also know that without his intervention, if Filo is dead, like you say, you would not have stood a chance against this highly trained Asset. So we’re guessing Loki made in time to save you, but not Filo – and only just in time. Another few seconds and you would have been burnt mush on the hillside. We tracked Loki’s footprints to and from the church, so that confirms that piece of the puzzle and we lose Filo on the hillside, so I have to deduce that Loki took him away. Am I doing well so far?”  
You nod. “Yeah.” 

“Back at the observatory, we have three dead soldiers and one in a coma she won’t ever wake up from. She was hit so hard that she had a bleed on the brain. She’s alive, but there’s no chance of getting a debriefing from her. There was a bullet hole in the wall, so we’re guessing someone tried to shoot Filo and neither you or Filo were up for that. But killing soldiers, that just isn’t on. I’m a little bit pissed off, if I’m honest.”  
“They were HYDRA. They had orders to capture or eliminate me and Filo. That’s why the Winter Soldier was there, just in case the soldiers couldn’t contain us. The one that still alive, I’m sorry she’s been injured that badly. I only meant to stun her, but I wasn’t thinking straight.”  
“So you did that?”  
“I did that. I cast a spell so she wouldn’t wake until I got back and cleared it, but I guess I took too long.”  
“I guess you did.”  
“I’m sorry, Director.”  
“Sorry doesn’t get you far in this world.” He growls and you shift uncomfortably in your seat. But instead of pressing the point he shakes his head and looks away. “At least what happened afterward makes a bit more sense.”  
“What happened?”  
“We were holding a meeting about what to do next when one of Loki’s holograms showed up. He said that if I wanted he would take our injured soldier and try to heal her brain damage. When I asked why he’d do that, he shrugged and said he felt he owed us a debt. Guess he’s doing his best to clean up your mess. And since we’d caught him there red-handed…” He snorts. “Or green-cloaked... He feels the need to make amends.” He looks at you. “But who knows how or why he operates. I still can’t work out why he didn’t take you back when he took Filo. Sometimes I don’t understand these alien assholes at all…” He sighs. “I’d appreciate your input on this. Do you think it might be trick? Could he save her?”  
“He healed Laura’s mum when she had a brain tumour. It was inoperable, by our standards.” You shrug. “Anything’s possible. Whether he’d give her back or not is debatable. I’d ask for a contractual agreement, if I were you.”  
“It’s why I’m here, escorting your scrawny ass.”  
You grin.  
“So you’re starting to like me a bit, then?” You ask.  
“Just business, kid.” But the way he says it tells you he doesn’t mean it.  
“Understood.” You look around the compartment. “You got anything to eat? I’m starved.”

The Director gets up and goes to a head-height compartment. He pulls out a tray of silver pouches.  
“Beef, chicken or tomato?”  
“Chicken.” You say and he takes two of the pouches and puts the rest back. He throws them on your lap as he walks past to sit down again. You take them and then look up at him in question.  
“You have to wiggle the corner to heat the pack up, then you eat.” He tells you and after a moment of inspection, you figure it out. You cradle the first pack between your palms as it warms up, enjoying the heat. The perforation isn’t hard to find and the Director throws you a plastic fork as you tear it open. Then you take your first mouthful.  
“Ugh!”  
“Yeah.” He smiles. “First thing I ever tasted that has meat in it but *doesn’t* taste like chicken.”  
It’s not inedible, just metallic and horrid, and you’re too hungry to care. So after pulling a few faces, you tuck right back in.  
“Smart. Eat what you can when you can.” The Director nods. “Not everyone learns that lesson quickly enough.” He sits forward, his face suddenly intense. “Kid, I know you don’t like me asking you this, but I have to try. I’d really like to know…”  
You glance at him uncertainly.  
“Who does Loki work for? Or if he’s in a partnership, who is he working with? Who brokered the Chitauri army? Just a name would do. Something, anything to work on…”  
You shake your head.  
“No way. He’d kill me.”  
The Director sighs and sits back angrily.  
“I’m sorry.” You say softly. “I wish, I really wish I could but I can’t. I’d die by degrees.”  
“Loki only approves of betrayal when it’s him doing it, hey?” The Director says sarcastically and you nod with an apologetic grin. “Well that’s pretty inconsiderate of him.”  
“He’s generally an inconsiderate person.” You shrug. “He is royalty, after all. It doesn’t matter what the rabble think.”  
“He isn’t my king.” The Director says and you shrug.  
“But he’s mine.” You tap your temple. “Inside and out.”  
“I forget how much that must suck.” The Director says and you shrug again.  
“It does, but you get used to it.” You make a face and it has nothing to do with the meal. “That’s really bad, isn’t it? Getting used to it, I mean?”  
“What else are you meant to do?” The Director tells you straight and you nod. “When this is over, you have a place at SHIELD. Remember that. We need as many tough S.O.Bs on our payroll as we can find and you’re pretty high on that list.”  
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”  
“You should.”  
The engine noise changes and the Director turns to look out of the window.  
“Get ready.” He tells you. “We’re about to land.”

*

The second the Quinjet touches down, you’re hailed with orders to open the ramp. Three of Loki’s Sceptred humans walk up the gangway. They have automatic rifles and swords at their hips. Their eyes are blue and unemotional.  
“You will submit to checks.” The closest one says, his voice flat and without any inflection. The Director lifts his arms and lets them pat him down. Their check is very thorough, forcing him to strip down to his waist to be absolutely sure he has nothing in the lining of his leather coat. The Director takes the indignity without comment. They check you as well and you put up even less resistance. They find your daggers in a bag next to your seat, along with your boat, the pebble and your mum’s brooch. The one that finds it stiffens for a minute as if being given orders and then puts everything back in and gives the bag to you.  
You take it without comment.  
They move off into the rest of the Quinjet as another Sceptred man walks up the ramp. He’s wearing an expensive suit and as he gets close, his eyes flicker for a minute. He body language changes and you recognise the presence of the God-King behind his eyes.  
“Child.” His smile is as wide as it ever was. “Director. So good to see you both.”  
“Loki?” The Director says uncertainly.  
“This man is one of my Seneschals. Mentally strong enough to accept my presence in their minds without any damage. Though I can do this to any of my people who have agreed to be taken by the Sceptre. I thought I’d give you an object warning to behave.”  
“Message received.” The Director says.  
“You have brought the brain-damaged warrior?” He asks and at that moment one of the original three boarders brings her into the main compartment. She’s on a wheeled stretcher, covered neatly up to her shoulders in white blankets that hang low off the conveyance. Her face is pale and ill. “Ah, excellent.” He walks up and places his hands on her temples.  
You and the Director exchange uneasy glances.  
After a few moments the Seneschal nods.  
“I can probably heal her fully. Though we would have to drain the blood on her brain and the process could take several weeks to be effective. We cannot rush these things.”  
“I hear the brain can be delicate.” The Director says sarcastically and the man grins again.  
“Precisely.” 

You’re both escorted off the Quinjet, along with the injured soldier and the boarding party. The Quinjet engines roar as it is allowed to take off again. There is a shimmer of blue and you see the Tesseract open about thirty feet above of you so the Quinjet can escape the force-field and leave the edge of the city. You watch it go and the portal closes as if it had never been there.  
“And now it gets serious.” The Director says softly.  
“Really, Director, this has always been serious.” The Seneschal grins again. “I’ll leave you to processing. Please enjoy my hospitality.”  
The man shudders, closes his eyes and straightens. His eyes are still a soft glowing blue when they open again, but the God-King is gone.  
His smile is tighter, more polite, when he focuses on you again.  
“If you would just follow me, honoured guests.” He says gesturing, his voice a gentle New York lilt. “We have been expecting you. Please, if you are hungry or thirsty, do not hesitate to ask.”  
“No problem.” The Director says as he starts to walk in the direction indicated. One of the boarders starts to wheel the soldier after him, but as you take a step forward the other two boarders block your path.

“There a problem?” The Director asks as you shift nervously.  
“The child is in the wrong attire. Do not worry, we will dress them as is appropriate and then they will rejoin your side.”  
“As appropriate?”  
“For the wedding.”  
“What wedding?”  
“The one the God-King of the World is officiating.” The man’s voice never changes pitch, though he sounds mildly disappointed that the Director didn’t know.  
“Loki’s getting married?”  
“Oh, no, Director. He is officiating the marriage of two of our Representatives. As is proper in his Kingdom.”  
“Uh-huh.” The Director sounds unimpressed. “Am I invited?”  
“Unfortunately not.”  
“How do a swing an invitation?” He asks and the Seneschal smiles in polite rebuke.  
“That is not possible, Director, I am sorry. We have strict orders that there be no contact between you and our King. To make sure this hand over proceeds smoothly.”  
“Shame. I’d love to see how a Nordic wedding should go when a God is in attendance.”  
“Well the ceremony is going to be recorded. The whole nation will see it. Perhaps we could send you a copy.”  
“I’d like that.” The Director nods.  
“Very well, I will arrange it. Now, please, come this way.”  
You watch him go and then let the two boarders take you away in the opposite direction.

*

“Oh my god! They’re actually here!”  
You blink as you walk into a brightly lit room. A woman dressed in the deepest green dress you’ve ever seen comes gushing over to you.  
“Loki’s Child! The God-King’s Chosen! Oh, we are blessed! We are blessed!”  
“Uhm, pleased to meet you?” You say uncertainly. Your escort peels away and they close the door behind you.  
“Can we see it?” Another female voice asks as the first woman curtseys to you.  
“See what?”  
“The blessing, on your palm. His mark. We’ve heard the stories, but could you show us? Is it too much to ask?”  
You’re hustled forward as she talks, towards a carpeted circular stand in the middle of the room. You step up onto it as directed, so you’re about a foot above the ground. 

“Uhm… Sure?” You offer your right hand and the woman accepts it as if it’s a holy artefact. As soon as she touches your skin she shivers as if she’s been shocked. She moves your hand reverently, taking in the full design.  
“It’s so beautiful. I’d heard about the marks, but they are so pretty in person. It is a tattoo? Did he tattoo you?”  
“No.” You look around. The room is filled with women, all in expensive dresses, all bustling around and sorting out clothes set out on racks. Mirrors surround you on every wall. “He…” You look back at her, confused by all the light and noise and grateful for something to latch onto. “He burned it on my skin, with magic.”  
“Ooooooo.” The noise ripples through the room. They’re all impressed.  
“So, lucky.” The woman enthuses. “I am so jealous.”  
“I guess.” You say. You want to be polite to these new people, but her attitude grates. Does she even know what this marks mean? What you paid for it? What you sacrificed? “Can I have my hand back now?”  
“Julie, don’t manhandle the God-King’s Child.” The first woman, the one in the dark green dress snaps and the woman holding your hand flushes with embarrassment.  
“Of course, I’m sorry. I was distracted by your wondrous presence.” She lets go of your hand and curtseys low. “Please forgive me.”  
“You’re forgiven.” You say and she nods in gratitude.  
“Thank you, Holy One.”  
Holy One? Shit. What’s been happening while you’ve been away? 

“We will need to measure you.” The first woman says, her tone deferential and apologetic. “We need to dress you for the wedding, but we were unsure how you suffered at the hands of our enemy while you were imprisoned, so we have several different outfits and sizes for you to try.”  
“Okay.” You nod. “You need me to undress?”  
“If you do not mind.”  
“I kinda do…” You look around at all the clothing and you sigh. “But we need to impress the God-King, so I’ll let you do what you need. But I’m going to need help with the sling. I broke my arm last night.”  
“In battle?” The woman asks and you look at her strangely.  
“Yeah…”  
There’s another murmur of wonder and approval.  
“They must have been a terrible enemy indeed, to harm you in such a way.”  
“Yeah.” You nod, swallowing against the sudden lump in your throat. “They killed my Shield-Brother.”  
There’s another wave of vocalisations, mostly of sympathy.  
“How terrible.” The woman sighs. “I thank you for your patience with Julia, Holy One. So much patience, even when in mourning.” She smiles at you wanly. “We will be a quick as we can.” 

Several of the women come forward and help you take off your uniform, you hadn’t noticed how much it reeked until now. The woman in charge takes one whiff and asks, very politely, for you to go into a shower room to get clean. Everyone here is very polite, exceedingly polite, as if they’re scared of you and don’t want to make you angry. You’re not sure how to reassure them, so you keep smiling and make your movements slow and unthreatening.  
The soap lathers like a dream and the shampoo smells of lavender. You didn’t used to be a big fan of lavender, it was an old person smell. But now, after everything, you love the scent. You’d empty the entire bottle if you had the time. The woman lets you shampoo your hair three times before politely asking you to come back for measurements.  
You wonder if you snapped at her, she’d let you continue washing. But the thought makes you feel mean, so you let them dry you off and go back to the circular platform in the middle of the room, instead.

The women fuss and care for you, their hands gentle, their attitude reverential. You’re warm and clean and being clothed like royalty. You allow yourself to relax into the role and you feel almost content for the first time in ages. The fitting goes smoothly and by the end you’re in tight leather trousers, a body-hugging green shirt, a high-collared, sleeveless jacket and a calf-length surcoat, also sleeveless but with triangular shoulder guards that sharpen the overall effect. Your boots are black and shiny and knee high and fit so comfortably you almost want to cry. You’ve never noticed how much the other boots rubbed. But then, you’ve never had fitted, fully tailored shoes before. Your sling is made of green silk and tied so that your arm sits firm and snug against your ribs and can’t be knocked about. Finally, you’re given a half-cloak of green and your daggers are placed at your hips rather than using the harness, which is taken away with the bag and the boat with the promise of them reaching your rooms. Your mum’s brooch is pinned on the surcoat lapel and they give you a small woven-gold crown that’s combed into your hair. It has golden roses placed in the circlet with green enamelled leaves and you can’t stop touching it.  
“This is… Amazing!” You say as you turn and turn in the mirror, trying to see everything at once.  
“You look every inch the Royal Child.” The woman agrees. “The God-King’s young protégé. I am honoured to have been allowed to dress you.”  
“Thank you.” You beam at her and she curtseys again. Then you see your escort returning and your smile fades. You get down from the stand with help from the women and walk over to them.  
“Time to go?” You ask and they nod. “Okay. Lead the way.”

*

“Well, look at you.” The Director says in greeting. “Aren’t you all posh and ready for the wedding.”  
He looks as unruffled as ever as he waits on the tarmac with the injured soldier. You hadn’t realised how long you’d been away, the fitting room had been windowless. But the sun is up and rising, peeking between the buildings in a pale blue sky. At this time of year, it must be at least nine o’clock, possibly later. “And just in time for our ride.”  
“We going to the Empire State?” You ask, a touch excited and the Director nods.  
“The King is sending us a carriage.”  
“A flying carriage?”  
“I believe so.” He looks down at you. “Excited much?”  
“Much.” You agree. “And a little scared, but mostly excited. I never wanted to leave New York.”  
“But the break was nice?”  
“It was. Thank you, Director.” You incline your head and he exhales in amusement.  
“Always hedging your bets.” He says and you frown, a little hurt. “Don’t take it personally. It was another compliment.”  
“Thanks, I guess.”  
“Just take it as approval that you’ve learned all the right lessons from him and none of the wrong ones. It would have been easy for you to turn into a smaller version of him.”  
“Mini Me.” You say and hiccup quietly at the surge of grief that runs through you.  
“Yeah.” The Director doesn’t seem to notice. “But you’re tougher than that and I respect it. Just hope you can keep holding out, now that you’re back.”  
“I’m stronger than I was back then, Director.” You tell him, your voice filled with determination. “And I’ve learnt a few tricks while I was away. I know who I am now, named or not, and I won’t let him take that from me.”  
“That’s all I needed to hear.”  
The carriage swoops down and lands neatly in front of you both. The soldier is put in first and then the Director gestures you on. He gets on behind you.  
“Right, let’s go see the Wizard of Oz.” He says as the carriage lifts again and you grin in agreement.

*

The carriage lands two blocks from the Empire State and you are made to disembark. Other carriages land and disgorge other SHIELD agents, who look around uncertainly and glance at the Director for orders.  
“Let’s get this show on the road, people.” He says and they nod. The road is long, but straight, leading directly to the destination. You all fan out across the tarmac and walk together towards the tall building, only over-shadowed by Mr Stark’s legacy. You glance up at the big ball of blue light that engulfs Stark Tower and you feel a strange twinge inside of you, a feeling of recognition. Is it watching you as you watch it? You look away hurriedly. 

The street is strange, very domestic, as if built to look as it did before the war. The buildings are all repaired, blue-tinted glass shimmering in the soft sunlight of early winter in New York. But the buildings are empty, the whole place feels empty, evacuated, as if you’ve walked onto a movie set, the extras waiting in the wings. There are lights on in the foyer of the Empire State, but you’re still too far away to make out particulars. People move behind the windowed walls, preparing for the arrival of their guests. There are three of Mr Stark’s vintage cars parked by the pavement, different colours and makes and models. A declaration of the God-King’s victory perhaps, showing what he has looted from the tower already? A firm reminder of what he did and what he is capable of? Maybe an additional gift for SHIELD?  
You’re still wondering their significance when the nearest car blows up in a ball of bright fire.  
You’re too far away for the explosion to harm you, another block away at least, but you drop to the floor at the sound and fury and the agent’s reactions are immediate and well-trained. They turn to form a circle around the Director, searching for the attacker while defending their leader. 

An arrow drives itself into the tarmac an inch from your nose. It has a note rolled onto the shaft. Carefully you get up into a crouch and take it off with shaking fingers, only managing to open it after several attempts. The paper is wound so tightly it keeps going back on itself and so thin it’s hard to get a grip on it.  
“Mind where you step.” You read out-loud and the Director sighs.  
“False alarm people. Just Hawkeye signing in.” A few of the SHIELD agents start to scan the buildings. “Don’t bother, he can see further than any of you. He won’t be in an obvious position. That was a warning. Do not deviate from the agreed boundary line. We take what is waiting for us at the Empire State and then get the hell out, that’s an order.”  
“Yes, Director.” A few of the agents agree and others just nod. You stand, crumpling the note in your hand, looking around warily. Everyone is exceptionally tense.  
“And Kid, if you don’t mind, could you wheel our injured party?” The Director asks you and you walk over to take the wheeled stretcher, much to the relief of the SHIELD agent moving it. He quickly moves into formation with the rest of the team and you know, even though they don’t have weapons, even though Hawkeye is watching from a far vantage point, they have all been trained to die at this moment to get the Director out. Their dedication is both strange to you and inspiring. You could never do it. You like being alive too much.

The stretcher is easy to move. The wheels are well oiled and it goes exactly where you want it to go, unlike so many market trolleys you’ve pushed in the past. Even though it’s heavy, it’s engineered so well that even a skinny underweight kid can move it easily with one hand. Something feels weird though, slightly off as you wheel it down the road. Your palm keeps pulsing as if picking up feedback from something magical that’s nearby. It can’t be the stretcher, it’s been checked half a dozen times since you got here, but still, something feels off. You’re still trying to pinpoint it as you get within ten feet of the Empire State and the doors open.  
And Captain America walks out.

You stop dead, your entire body going in to freeze mode at the sight of him. Shit, you hadn’t expected to confront him so soon. Not after what happened the last time you were together. You thought you were ready. You were wrong.  
Luckily, everyone else stops walking as the Captain comes out of the building, so your fear is hidden for the time being. Your heart is pounding in your throat and when he glances at you, you think he can hear your terror. But instead he just nods at you, as if just checking you’re there, as he walks towards the Director.  
“What is it, Rogers?” The Director asks bluntly and the Captain smiles. It’s a God-King smile, wide and sharp at the edges, making the blue glow of his eyes all the more un-nerving.  
“Final weapon check, Director.” He says, shrugging.  
“We’ve been checked four times already. Once we were made to go butt-ass naked.” The Director snaps and the Captain shrugs. He gives a nod over the Director’s shoulder. You hear the soft whistle of an arrow and a second car explodes behind you. You all fall into a crouch, including the Director as the Captain stands there, smirking. He holds his hand behind his back, relaxed and arrogant.  
“That was a controlled explosion, designed to go off away from where we’re standing. The next one won’t be. I put the nail bomb in myself. I’ll survive it…” He shrugs again, glances at you. He’ll protect you, if the bomb goes off, he’ll protect you.  
It gives you no comfort at all.

“All right.” The Director says, defeated. “All right.”  
They line up and let the Captain search them. He does, his face impassive and his hands impersonal. Eventually he nods.  
“They’re clean.” He calls back to the people in the building and he steps to one side, gesturing for them to enter. The Director gives him a dark look, but they all walk forward and somewhere you find the strength in your limbs to move as well.  
The Captain comes up behind you and puts a hand on your shoulder. You whimper quietly and close your eyes. You stop walking, your legs locked in place by your fear, your guts flash frozen into one big ball of twisting ice.  
“Easy.” He murmurs. “Easy.”  
“Please…” Is all you can manage, a small, helpless little word. But it holds everything you can’t verbalise.  
“We left on a bad note. I did a bad thing. You’ve a right to be scared. But I won’t hurt you.”  
You make a small noise, at the back of your throat.  
You don’t trust him, you don’t believe him.  
“It made you stronger. What happened, I let it happen. Because I knew you needed to get away, needed to learn your lessons out of the crucible of New York. You needed to find your feet, work out what you learned here. You needed time to breathe, so I gave it to you.” He squeezes your shoulder. “I paid the price for it, but you reaped the benefits. I have no regrets.”  
You feel a flare of anger, but it’s fleeting. It can’t compare to the frozen, numb terror in your heart.  
_Do what he says and maybe he won’t hit you._  
_Just do what he says._  
He lets you go and pushes you gently in the small of the back to get you walking again.  
“Welcome back, Kid.” He says and walks past you to get on with his job. 

Darcy’s in the foyer and her eyes are blue.  
“It’s temporary.” She’s explaining to the Director. “Once everything’s done, once it’s all been collected and taken out, he’ll let me go again.”  
“How does it feel?” The Director asks, but his voice is filled with his feeling of betrayal.  
“Weird. Amazing. Eye opening.” She shrugs. “Ask me when we get back.”  
“Count on it.”  
“Here’s all the files and a bit more on the side…” Darcy moves off to show everyone what’s on the ten lined up office trolleys. The agents follow her, but the Director looks at you as you’re guided towards the lift with the stretcher. He walks over casually, with his arms behind his back. The two people guarding you pull their swords and cross them as a warning. The Director walks right up to them and looks over the weapons at you on the other side.  
“I haven’t given her away yet.” He said firmly. “Not until I get a signed agreement by the God-King himself.”  
“You will not see him today.” The first guard tells him. “There will be no meeting.”  
“And I agreed to that.” The Director nods, jerking his thumb behind him. “In regards to the information. Not in regards to her. She’s one of my agents, I need to be assured that she will be treated well and returned.”  
The Captain strolls over.  
“You really want this to get violent, Director?” He asks, his voice polite, but his intentions more than clear.  
“No. I don’t want any violence at all. I want to keep this civil.” The Director looks into his eyes. “How about you?”  
The Captain grins at him.  
You bite your lip. The tension in the room, already unbearable, rises a couple of notches.  
You can’t let them all die. 

You close your eyes and reach out. After connecting all the way from Russia, it isn’t hard to find the God-King’s mind near the top of the tower. He’s on his throne making small talk with the happy couple while they wait for you to arrive.  
“Yes, child?” His voice is welcoming and a little surprised.  
“Things are about to go south down here.” You tell him, getting to the point quickly.  
“Show me.” He reaches out and you open up to him. Letting him see through your eyes. The Director and the Captain are arguing. Their voices are calm, but violence is very much about to happen.  
“What does the Director want?” The God-King asks.  
“To get your agreement in person that you will treat his agent well and return her. A signed contract, no less.”  
“We were going to do that in a few day’s time.”  
“Well, apparently he wasn’t expecting you to take her today. He’s a bit upset.”  
“So I see.” The God-King sighs. “He thought this was just a symbolic hand-over, not an actual hand-over. There has been a fault in communication. Please tell the Captain to stand down and give me a moment.”  
Tell him to stand down? Shit.

“Captain.” You say loudly before your brain can kick in and stop you. “Captain!”  
Both men stop arguing and look at you in surprise. You can feel your knees shaking.  
You swallow heavily before continuing.  
“I’ve just been in contact with the God-King. He wants you to stand down and await orders.” You turn to the Director. “Apparently there has been a misunderstanding. He asks you to give him a few moments while he assesses the situation.”  
“Sure.” The Director nods.  
The Captain looks from you to him and then nods, too, in agreement. You give a large, internal sigh of relief.  
You don’t want anyone to die today.  
About a minute later your guards stiffen and you feel the God-King inside of them, giving orders. They lower their weapons and then he turns his attention on you.  
“I am not going to appear down there, in person, or in hologram form. I have no wish to breech our agreement. So you are going to have to convey my wishes.” The God-King tells you. “Are you ready?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then let us begin.”

“Right.” You say, your voice filled with authority. “The God-King is speaking through me because his presence will conflict with the standing agreement. He, urm…” You stumble, but recover, you’re not used to being in control of anything. “He says that he wants to get the agent in question comfortable in her new rooms as quickly as possible. That brain damage is serious and that he can’t wait a few days before stabilising her condition. So she’s going upstairs right now so he can deal with it.”  
“I understand that, but…” The Director says angrily but you raise your hand to stop him.  
“The God-King agrees that he miscommunicated his intentions. So he is willing to let you meet with him, Director, in the throne room.”  
“Right now?”  
“Right now. But just you, no one else.”  
“That’s fine by me. Just let me tell everyone where I’m going. If I’m not back in an hour, this whole deal is off.”  
“He understands and agrees to your terms.” You say diplomatically while the God-King laughs in your head. 

He could kill them all with a single flex of his will. They are in his territory, he could take them all hostage if he wished, or worse. He could give them to the Chitauri, or murder them all slowly, over days, in his personal play pit. Yet the Director is threatening him, Him! As if he were the one in charge...  
But the God-King’s humour is laced with respect that the Director would try to bluff so hard when in such a powerless position.  
“Wait, you have a personal play pit?...” You ask him.  
“Do you want one?” The God-King asks and you shiver.  
“No. Thank you.”  
“I’ll show you round. Later, of course, once you’re settled back in. It’s a fun diversion, maybe after experiencing it from a position of power, you’ll change your mind.”  
“I doubt it.” You say and he sighs.  
“As you wish. Still weak, I see.”  
“Yes. At least in that way.”  
“Well, if you get curious, the offer stands.”  
“Thank you.”  
“Now, show the Director up to my throne room, like a good child.”  
“Yes Majesty.” 

You step forward and press the button on the lift. The Director is telling several of his agents where he’s going and shutting down the arguments. You glance over at him.  
“You coming, or what?” You ask and he nods and walks over.  
“Thanks for this. For getting him off our back. I won’t forget it.”  
“It’s okay, Director.” You smile at him. “Darcy would kill me if any of you got injured.”  
“You think he’ll let her go?”  
“I do.”  
“Alright.” He relaxes and nods, watching the Captain from the corner of his eye.  
You both wait for the elevator to arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So another bridging chapter. Sometimes these are important to get everything leveled out before the plot continues and the Kid and the Director needed to get some things straightened out. And the Director had to be sure that the Kid couldn't remember anything that happened last chapter. 
> 
> So the interesting things start happening next chapter. The Reunion is on the cards. It should be up next Wednesday or Thursday.  
> Talk to you soon.


	44. Renewing Vows, Both Old and New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are both stopped about ten feet from the throne by the guards. You wait while the God-King sits there, taking you in, enjoying the baited breath of the audience. Then he beckons you closer.  
> “My child has returned.” He says. The words are aimed at you, but spoken loud enough for everyone to hear.  
> “I have.” You say, your voice much smaller as you climb the steps to the dais. “It is good to be back, Majesty.”  
> He leans forward and you drop to your knees before him. He strokes your hair, running his fingers over the golden circlet.  
> “I have missed you.” He says in a far gentler tone. His mind reinforces his words, filling you with welcome and you look up at him and smile.  
> “I’ve missed you, too.” You say. He gestures for you to stand and kisses your forehead.  
> “Come. Sit by my side.” He says and you turn, about to head to the right of the throne and regain your place at his side.  
> You stop dead in your tracks.  
> Laura is sitting there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is one long chapter, but it's all one scene and I couldn't work out where to break it up.
> 
> Don't expect this to happen too often, I like to keep things at around 7k as it makes the editing easier - had to do this in three separate sittings, which I don't like to do because it can mess with the flow, but there you have it. 
> 
> There aren't any terrible things in this chapter, it is a wedding after all and, despite everything, I am not up to George R R Martin's level of callous killing. So sit back and enjoy the Kid's reunion with Loki, plus some old friends showing up and the Kid making some new ones. 
> 
> I think we could all do with a happier chapter. ;)

*

You’re both apprehensive as the lift reaches the right floor and the blank-faced guards step out first, expecting you to follow. But the throne room has changed a lot since you’ve been away. The heads on poles are gone, exchanged for candelabra instead which light the emerald green carpet leading to the throne. The room is packed with happy, murmuring people, all dressed for a celebration and there are tables all around the edges, laden with food and drink. Off to one side there is a space for a dance floor and a band is tuning up, a real band with electric guitars and a drum kit, not some classical orchestra.  
The walk down to the throne is nerve wracking, everyone is watching you and muttering. They aren’t looking at the Director at all, they’re all looking at you.  
You are absolutely the centre of attention.  
And you don’t like it one bit. 

The God-King is sitting at his throne with his usual indolent lounge, filled with quiet dignity and power. He’s dressed in full regal splendour. His black-knee high boots are adorned with runes, stitched in gold thread. His shirt is deep green silk and his jacket is made from a patterned, shimmering gold cloth with his dark hair combed over the high collar. His surcoat is black and embroidered with hundreds of green and gold serpents across the whole surface of the garment. They interlock in intricate and delicate patterns. His green cloak is calf length, heavy and gorgeous. His helmet is a deep burnished gold and covered in filigree, with spiralling tree branches climbing up the long, curved horns.  
He is ethereal, intimidating and awe-inspiring. A god among his mortals.  
He sits with one foot lifted onto the other knee and the Sceptre placed across his lap. He has his chin in his hand, elbow resting on the arm of the throne and his eyes bright with interest as he watches you approach. 

You are both stopped about ten feet from the throne by the guards. You wait while the God-King sits there, taking you in, enjoying the baited breath of the audience. Then he beckons you closer.  
“My child has returned.” He says. The words are aimed at you, but spoken loud enough for everyone to hear.  
“I have.” You say, your voice much smaller as you climb the steps to the dais. “It is good to be back, Majesty.”  
He leans forward and you drop to your knees before him. He strokes your hair, running his fingers over the golden circlet.  
“I have missed you.” He says in a far gentler tone. His mind reinforces his words, filling you with welcome and you look up at him and smile.  
“I’ve missed you, too.” You say. He gestures for you to stand and kisses your forehead.  
“Come. Sit by my side.” He says and you turn, about to head to the right of the throne and regain your place at his side.  
You stop dead in your tracks.  
Laura is sitting there.

She’s in a leaf green dress, hemmed with black and gold. Embroidered branches climb the edges of the skirt and along the wide, drooping sleeves. She has a heavy necklace of silver and emeralds, with matching bracelets and earrings. Her hair is intricately braided with more precious green stones woven into the strands that glitter as she lifts her head and smiles at you in welcome. You nod to her to hide your confusion and disappointment. You look at the God-King and you know that this is deliberate from the half-smile on his lips.  
“As you wish, Majesty.” You bow to him and go to his left. There is a large golden cushion on the marble and you sit down, curling your legs on it and trying to keep the internal conflict from showing on your face. The God-King reaches out and plays with your hair. You lean in and pretend that it gives you some comfort. The Director watches it all with a hooded, disapproving gaze.  
He looks like he’s regretting bringing you here already. 

“Now, Director Fury, shall we do business?” The God-King asks, moving his hand from your head and gesturing him forward lazily.  
The Director wheels the stretcher forward as the God-King puts out a hand. One of the guards gives him two sheets of rolled up paper and small tray with a quill and ink on it. The God-King places the Sceptre so that it balances across the throne and stands, walling down to the stretcher.  
“These are the two copies of the contract, as agreed.” The God-King offers him one of the pieces of paper. “Please read it, both if you would like, but they are identical.”  
“I’ll check that, if you don’t mind.” The Director says and the God-King nods. He leaves him with both rolls and the tray of ink while he walks over to the head of the stretcher.  
“May I proceed?” He asks and the Director nods.  
“Sure, knock yourself out.”  
The God-King places both hands at her temples, he mutters under his breath. For a long few minutes he closes his eyes and seems lost to concentration while the Director reads through both contracts. You can feel his shields up at maximum, keeping you and anyone else out while he reaches into her mind. You wonder who he might be protecting her from. Or what he might be hiding. Then, with a sigh, his eyelids flutter and the God-King returns to the present.  
“It is done. She is stable, for now. I will have to do more work, but…” He shrugs. “I am confident of the outcome.”  
“And these contracts are just fine.” The Director nods. “Should I sign first?”  
“By all means.” 

Once his signature is on the papers, the Director gives the tray back to the God-King and saunters over to the stretcher. As the God-King’s attention is elsewhere, he drops down and lifts the sheet. There’s a hidden panel that runs full length right under the bed. It slides open at his touch, designed to look like an innocent part of metal stretcher supports. He reaches inside and begins to pull something out.  
“Majesty!” One of the guards shouts out and the God-King turns, dropping the tray with a clatter, the stoppered ink rolling away across the marble floor. Without seeming to move, the God-King has a dagger in each hand, curled against his forearms as he shifts his stance, ready for combat. His eyes flash with anger at the potential double-cross.  
The Director smiles and lifts a long, thin, wooden box from the compartment. It’s about six feet long, but only a few inches wide on each side. It must have barely fitted under the bed and the masking tape he used to secure it is still stuck in brown patches on the edges.  
“Take it, easy.” He says, standing slowly. “This is for you. A gift. From Natasha Romanov.”  
The God-King relaxes slightly, but his expression is quizzical and his daggers do not waver.  
“She asked me to deliver it directly into your hands and, well, I didn’t want it to get confiscated on the way here. I’m not going to lie, it is a weapon, but don’t you Asgardians like giving them as gifts?”  
The God-King moves forward, knives still poised and ready. The Director, moving slowly, fully aware he is dealing with someone unpredictable, opens the top of the box and offers it for the God-King to look inside. The God-King leans forward, glancing at the Director and then back at the box. He decides to look inside, his curiosity overcoming the expectation of a trap. 

When he sees the contents, the God-King’s face breaks into a smile and he gives a small laugh.  
“A berserker staff.” His blades disappear to wherever they came from and he eagerly reaches in. He lifts it out and up for everyone to see. “I haven’t seen one of these in centuries.” He looks at the Director, then back at the weapon. “Wherever did you find it?”  
“In three pieces, in and around Norway.”  
“And the Asgardian who deserted and stayed on Midgard with this weapon?”  
“He’s still around too, though he wants to keep out of the action.”  
“Tell him I have no interest in him. He may continue to live his life as he wishes.”  
“I’m not in contact, but I’m sure he’ll be glad of that. Thor doesn’t know, by the way. About the staff, or about the Asgardian. I thought it best.”  
“I agree.” 

The God-King runs his fingers over the staff appreciatively. It’s beautiful, a bright, strangely vibrant silver, covered in grooves and lines that contain its magic. It was what you felt when you pushed the stretcher outside the Empire State, but couldn’t work out where the power was coming from. Now that it’s out of the package you can feel its terrible legacy. Of the rage contained inside the metal. The staff almost shivers with the emotion, but it doesn’t touch the God-King at all as he goes through several practised training steps. He swishes it several times, getting the feel of it and then stalks into the middle of the dance floor. He steps backwards into a combat stance and lifts the staff to his shoulders. Then he begins to move. He starts with a few simple actions, the staff flipping and turning in his hands, completely under his control. He nods and exhales in approval. He twists suddenly, leaping in the air, the staff spinning in his hands. He lands on tip-toe and pushes off again, taking the dance floor in a single bound, the staff a blurred circle of silver. He turns mid-leap, lands in a crouch, places the staff full length on the ground and the weapon seems to sigh. The soft wave of magic shivers in the air, caressing the guitar strings of the stunned band member and making the drum rumble gently. The God-King stands and runs his hands over the staff lovingly one more time. The hushed awe of the crowd is palpable.  
He glances at the Director.

“Give the Spider my thanks.”  
“She says it comes with a request.”  
“Oh?”  
“That you release Clint Barton from the Sceptre.”  
“And why would I do that?”  
“Because you have most of the States now, including the part he holds dearest to his heart.” The Director says and the God-King smiles a secret smile.  
“That I do.” He agrees.  
“So you don’t need to keep him blue anymore. She’s not asking you let him go, or any of that. I’m not asking that either. Just let his mind free. Stop torturing him.”  
“I will consider it.” The God-King says, turning his eyes back to the staff. “This is a kingly gift. One I did not expect to receive on Midgard. These are rare antiques even on Asgard. Most were melted down after the war.” He spins the weapon idly. “But at this moment Hawkeye is busy.”  
“But once we’re gone?”  
“Once his work is ended for the day.” The God-King nods. “You are aware that, by tradition, I am expected to grant requests in the morning before I officiate a wedding? I have granted twenty today, before you arrived.”  
“I wasn’t aware.”  
“And it is still morning.” The God-King looks out of the window. “Just.”  
“So is that a yes?”  
The God-King pauses, his expression thoughtful.

“I suppose.” He says eventually, looking back at the staff, moving his hands over the markings. The God-King looks at Director, considers and then nods emphatically. “Yes, I will free him.”  
“Thank you.” And, for once, the Director is completely sincere.  
“It was a thoughtful gift, Director. The request was earned as much as granted. Though…” He starts to grin. “You expected me to be taken by the rage, did you not?”  
“It crossed my mind as a possibility.”  
“So, you are not afraid to die?”  
“Not for a long time.”  
“Everyone in this building, in this city would have been at risk…”  
“Compared to the world? It’s small change.”  
The God-King nods.  
“You are a worthy adversary, Director. I look forward to our next clash. Now take your contract and leave. Before I change my mind, and decide not to let you go.” He eyes flash with dangerous emotion and you know that he is not completely immune to the effects of the staff, he just hides it well.  
The Director puts the long box on the floor, picks up the contract where it sits on the discarded tray and stands. He backs away respectfully. You can see the way he watches the God-King carefully for any sudden movement, even as he keeps his tread even. He knows he’s playing a very dangerous game, that the God-King can be unpredictable at the best of times and now he’s holding a staff trying to fill him with undiluted rage. The Director gives a short half-bow once he is well out of range and turns to walk briskly away down the carpet.  
“Until we meet again.” He calls over his shoulder once he’s almost at the elevator and the God-King laughs.  
“Count on it, Director Fury.”

*

The God-King places the staff back in the box and lifts it carefully. He carries it back with him and lays it, with reverence, at the foot of his throne. He takes up the Sceptre again and waits until the Director has left the room before calling the wedding couple forward. He tilts his head, his expression softening as they come before him. His smile is welcoming and open.  
“Are you ready to begin?” He asks them. The man and woman both bow deeply.  
“We are, your Majesty.”  
“Then approach to receive your blessings.”  
As they climb the steps, you feel a soft push at you mind.  
“Pay attention. There will be a test.” He tells you across the link and you send back an acknowledgement. He caresses your mind and then withdraws. You blink. It’s been a while since he’s done that and it feels both strange and welcome. A return to something you knew, something comforting and familiar. And yet… You’d been getting used to having your own mind again, without daily intrusion. Now everything you are belongs to him again, including your privacy. You’re going to have to re-adjust quickly back to the way things used to be.

The couple walk up the stairs with no hesitation, with absolutely no fear. They smile with him, accept him as their leader, trust him in a way you never could. When the God-King gestures they lift their heads without hesitation, offering their throats the him. The man is dressed in a tuxedo, modified to look more Asgardian, with the opening not straight down the front, but off to the left and with a button that holds the jacket closed across his chest, rather than down on his mid-drift. There are golden and green snakes embroidered at the shoulders and the collar is high around the back of his neck, rather than folded back. He has a thick brown beard, which has been plaited to look more Nordic and his hair is grown out and sits around his shoulders. The woman is dressed in a brightly vivid, scarlet red. Her dress has the upper cut that you know is favoured by Asgardians, with one half of the dress torso made of a golden fabric that sits across one breast in a diagonal seam, leaving a single shoulder strap and the other arm bare. It offsets her light brown hair, which is plaited like Laura’s and set with carnelian stones and the occasional glimmering ruby. She has a necklace of woven gold with an onyx snake set as the clasp and a matching bracelet that climbs up her bare arm, the dark snake’s head resting on her bicep.  
Neither of them flinch away as the God-King rests his free hand on their vocal cords in turn, whispering a subtle, temporary spell that, to you, tastes like a fresh morning breeze.

“You chose, of you own free will, to speak your vows in the ancient Asgardian tongue. To show your honour for me as your King and your deep respect for the Ancient Gods. Each of you will kneel in turn and give your vows of fealty to me. Then you will stand and hold hands, the bride’s left and the groom’s right. Standing before me, looking into each other’s eyes, you shall give each other your marriage vows. Something only you and I will understand.” The God-King smiles gently. “Then I shall tie your wrists with the sacred thread and your union shall be joined for as long as you both shall live. This bond, by request, shall be woven with magic, to show your commitment to the marriage and to your vows. Before we proceed with the ceremony, I cast my blessing upon you. I grant you both health and long life, that any child borne from this union shall be strong in body, mind and spirit and the pregnancy free of complication or worry.” 

He begins to weave another spell, this one filed with the potency of his blood. It is already mostly constructed, with just the final touches needed for it to be passed on to the recipients. You can feel the spell’s structure as he brings it forth from wherever he was holding it in stasis and activates it for them – a construct built from silver thread and the blood of his veins, it pulses as he awakens it, a living, breathing thing. A creature born to protect those it is assigned to. He touches the man on the temple and the heart and the women on the temple, heart and abdomen. You feel the spell being absorbed into their being, removing any chance of dementia, of heart or lung disease and for the woman, any defect of her womb. Though the words sound simple, the spell itself is extremely complex. Only someone with the magical mastery of the God-King could take something with so many factors and turn it into a living concept, filled with beauty and grace. 

So many questions flash though your mind. How is it even possible to make something like that? How much energy does it consume? Is it like Thor’s blood magic? You feel yourself trying to touch the bride and groom’s minds, trying to see if there’s a connection between Thor’s words of power when his blood flowed through you and the God-King’s elegant construct. You try to think of a way to get your palm against their skin, to be able to look inside, to work things out.  
You start at the God-King’s mental touch.  
“You will do nothing of the sort.” But his tone is amused, gently chiding.  
As the groom gets to his knees, the God-Kings takes the moment to glance at you and gives a little shake of his head.  
“But how did you... How is that possible…? It’s, it’s alive and yet, artificial and…?”  
“Your curiosity is adorable, but what I have just done is far above what you could learn just by watching. And treating our valued guests as magical lessons and curiosities is the height of bad manners.” You look away embarrassed and he caresses your mind again. He isn’t angry, but almost parentally amused. He waits until you return the gentle touch and promise to behave before turning back to the groom, who is now fully on his knees. The God-King strikes the floor with the sceptre to mark the beginning of the proceedings. The room, already quiet, falls into an absolute, awe-filled silence.

“If you must try to turn this into a lesson, work out how to translate what we are about to say.” The God-King continues speaking in your mind while outwardly being silent and stern. He places his hand on the man’s head. “If it will keep you busy and out of mischief while I do my duty, then I am more than happy to allow you the attempt.” He sighs dramatically and you grin. “Such a little handful.” He says, his voice mockingly stern. “So much trouble for such a little thing.”  
“But you love it.” You say and he makes a show of considering your words.  
“I suppose I do enjoy it… Slightly. And I may have missed it as well.” He says it as if he’s making a huge allowance. “It’s been a long time since I’ve met a student of magic as eager and as engaged as you are.”  
Then he turns back to the task at hand. The groom is still and obedient, the crowd so silent it’s as if no one is breathing at all. You feel him drinking in the moment, enjoying the stillness, the power of his majesty and presence on his mortal herd.  
Then he takes a deep dramatic breath, holds it for effect and begins to speak. 

His words are like those he spoke when you walked in his memories of Asgard. It’s the same, almost Scandinavian tongue you heard before when he ordered the meal at Ragnar’s Pit. You picture how you felt when he cast the spell on the couple, that taste of the morning breeze, a subdued, green smell on your nostrils. But you can’t feel it when he speaks, not at all.  
Then the groom speaks and the sensation comes rushing back. Of course you wouldn’t feel it with the God-King, he’s speaking his mother tongue, but the other two are speaking through a translation spell. You close your eyes as the man continues his pledge. It feels like the first day of spring, when the snow’s chill is still in the air, but its physical presence has melted away. You lick your lips, letting the taste of the morning air touch your tongue, cool and sharp, yet tinged with grass and green leaves. You close your eyes, concentrating on the flavour of it, allowing the scent to reach your senses. Until you can almost breathe the clear, untainted air produced by the spell. Yet the air is thin, as if you are high in the mountains. You can hear a stream, babbling through the stones, the songs of birds in the trees, singing in high, fluted, alien tones… 

_You’re walking through the dew soaked grass, your boots shiny with water. Your hands are behind your back and you feel sullen and angry and lost. You’re slightly taller than normal and for a moment you feel disconcerted, but it quickly rights itself. You’re as rangy as you ever were and your mind makes the adjustments.  
Your mother walks beside you, her face filled with concern and with love. Her dress is long, but she lifts it gracefully as she walks and the hem is barely wet.  
“You’re trying too hard, Loki.” She says sadly. “Magic cannot be forced by willpower alone.”  
“But you said it would help me in combat…” Your voice is sulky and young. It hasn’t broken into the smooth tenor range yet, but has the high pitch of adolescence.  
“And it will, but not all at once.” She sighs, finding a rock by the stream and sitting down. “Come here, let me show you.”  
You come to her reluctantly, glancing around, filled with frustration.  
She touches your throat gently with her right hand and you feel the magic tingling.  
“What are you…?” You stop. You know what you are saying, but the words are wrong. They are tonally different, more liquid, each word smooth and melodic. You lift your hands to your mouth and your mother laughs.  
“When you are old enough, your father will give you the gift of All-Speak. But this way, you can choose to turn it on and off as you wish. Or to speak in a completely different tongue. Such as you are right now. The language of the Elves.”  
“Change it back.” You say, a little panicky.  
“Do it yourself. You have the ability. This is just a charm, nothing more. Listen to the noise of the brook as it travels over the stones. Imagine the words you can hear just under the surface. Then change them to the words you want to hear. Let the magic flow, Loki. Don’t force it, as you would never force your voice to hit notes beyond your range…”_

“…and with this cord, I bind you together. Two souls inter-twined as one, now and for the rest of your mortal days…”  
You blink, coming back to the here and now with a small start. You’ve been gone a while, the bride and groom have sworn their fealty and said their vows. The Sceptre is leaning back against the throne and the God-King is tying a thin golden thread around their outstretched wrists. It hums with magic.  
“This cord will hold you together for seven days, the period of your honeymoon, on the day the cord is gone, you will be ready to live your new life together. Or call off the marriage, if you so wish. If you manage seven days, bound together, you will last a life time.”  
He laughs, the bride and groom laughs. Everyone else stays silent, listening to the strange syllables.  
Words that you can’t understand. They’re still speaking Ancient Asgardian. And yet, it’s like the brook moving over the stones, the words mix and make no sense and yet, and yet… It’s like listening to the white noise on the television and thinking you can hear a voice, a sound that isn’t there. By focusing on that and then on the words it works like a filter, you can trick your brain into understanding. You can translate what they are saying so long as you concentrate on listening through the babble separating you. The second you focus properly on their words, they go back to speaking a tongue you can’t understand. You go back to the filter and they’re as plain as day.  
It’s all really, really weird.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The God-King steps forward and kisses both of them on the forehead. Once he steps away, they turn and kiss each other.  
And the crowd erupts with shouts of joy and applause.  
You feel the God-King touching your mind, seeing what you have learned.  
“Can you understand me?” He asks out-loud and is surprised when he hears you translate the words in your head. “Very good.” He turns and smiles at you and you are lost in the brilliance of it, of the pride on his face. “Such a clever child.”  
You grin at him helplessly, like a dopey kid and he gestures you to his side. You stand and come over, resting against him as he drapes his arm over your shoulders.  
You feel the magic fade as he raises his other arm to address the crowd.  
“Let the feast begin!” He says loudly in English and the cheering starts again. The band strikes up with a rock version of Ode to Joy. They really are very good, interweaving the rock anthems with the classical melody in a seemly effortless manner. 

“That was real pretty.” Laura walks up and the God-King drapes his other arm around her.  
Without permission. She got up and walked over without permission.  
It’s all you can do not to scowl at her.  
The God-King strokes her hair idly as he looks around the room.  
“It all went very well, didn’t it? And down below in the foyer, our plans continue a pace.” He glances at you, sensing your new tension, but not commenting on it. He kisses her hair.  
“Go, mingle. I’ll be right along.”  
Laura nods and lifts her skirts above her ankles so she can walk easily down the stairs. Her shoes flash with crystals, they have small heels and the buckles are gold.  
You swallow down your jealously.  
You love your tailored clothing, your comfortable boots and soft leather trousers.  
But they’re so plain compared to what she and the God-King are wearing.  
Your gold-rose circlet looks so dumb next to her emeralds and crystal shoes. Your well-tailored clothes make you look like a well-loved servant, not royalty.  
She can come and go as she pleases without punishment. Can speak out-of-turn without being told off.  
She’s the God-King’s child, not you.

“She is your sister.” He chides you gently, once she is out of earshot.  
“I know, but…”  
“She is also your superior.” He cuts in. “You will do as she bids and you will accede to her wishes.”  
“Why?” You ask angrily and he looks down at you sharply, making you flinch away from his gaze.  
“Because I order it.” He says. “And because, by taking on the mantle of my student, you actually give up any rights you had previously.”  
“I had rights?” You ask. “Because, well, it’s never felt that way.”  
“Then you will not miss them, will you?” He kisses your hair and you let him, sullenly. His voice takes on a new threatening edge. “And if you try to use your powers to twist her mind…”  
“I won’t. I won’t hurt her.” You say, watching her wind her way through the crowd. People stop and compliment her, it’s obvious she’s well liked among the great and good. You’ve been away for too long. Everything is different now.  
“I have your word?”  
“Yes.”  
“Very well. I will trust you and hold you to that.”  
“Okay.” You press yourself against his side, forcing him to give you a little comfort. “And you’ll explain these new rules to me, okay? Because I have no idea what I’ve signed up for here.”  
“Tomorrow, once things have settled down.”  
“Okay.” You look up at him, your face serious. “I’ll hold you to that.”  
The God-King gives a little snort of amusement.  
“Scamp.” He sighs and lifts his arm, pushing you forward gently. “Go. Mingle. Enjoy yourself. We will discuss your lessons tomorrow. Today, you get the night off.”  
“Can I drink?”  
“In moderation only, but yes I will allow it. You’ve been through enough to need it. But I’ll make you pay if you have a hangover tomorrow.”  
“I won’t.” You bow to him. “Thank you, Majesty.”  
“Go. Have fun.” He turns from you, taking off his helm and putting it on the seat of his throne. As he starts to unclip his heavy cloak, you head down the steps and towards the nearest food table.  
You’re still really hungry.

*

“Hey! If it isn’t the long lost hero, back from the wars.”  
“Bethany!” You turn with a wide grin on you face. She’s different too, leaner, more muscular. Any fat she had is long gone, worked off through the rigours of living in the God-King’s city. But her smile is the same, bright and happy to see you. She’s holding a flute of champagne and she lifts it, offering her other arm in a hug. You drop your plate of food on the table and almost knock her over with your enthusiasm. “It’s so great to see you!”  
“Steady now.” She laughs. “My, you’ve grown!”  
“I have?” You look up at her. “Everyone says I’m skinny.”  
“Well, they’re right, but you’re taller as well. Gone through a growth spurt while you were away.”  
“Not much of one…”  
“Well, you were never going to be a bean sprout.” She laughs again. “But still…”  
“I’m so glad to see you.” You pull back and reach for your plate again. “I thought I wouldn’t recognise anyone.”  
“Well, things have changed a lot since you were away.”  
“Tell me about it.” Your eyes flicker back to Laura, talking animatedly with a man in an expensive suit. You blink, he’s wearing a collar, green leather like yours, but with gold edging and a sparkling, flawless emerald disc at his throat. Is anyone else wearing a collar? Your searching eyes come up a blank. 

“You met Laura yet?” Bethany asks, pointedly following you gaze and taking a sip of her champagne.  
“Yeah. She’s my sister.”  
“Really?”  
“Well, that’s what the God-King says. Not biological or anything. No more than he’s my dad.”  
“So an adopted sibling. Does that mean he’s formally adopted you both?”  
“I don’t know. Do I look like someone with any answers at all?”  
“Hey.” She gives your shoulders a squeeze with the arm she has around both of them. “You know he’s missed you, right?”  
“You mean it?” And you hate how desperate you sound.  
“When he found out you were gone…” Bethany sighs. “…well once he’d calmed down a bit, he had to call me in to sort out the damage. Broken bones, nothing awful…”  
“Except for the Captain…” You say darkly and Bethany looks embarrassed.  
“Oh. You heard about that?”  
“Uh-huh.”  
“Well he was the worst. After that the God-King was despondent for a few days, withdrawn, almost lonely. I stuck around to keep him company. Mr Stark was upset as well, I had to step in a couple of times when he pushed His Majesty too far.”  
“Sounds like it was fun.” You bite your lip. Pretend to look around. “I don’t see him.”  
The way Bethany pauses is enough to tell you everything.

“He’s holed himself up in his old cell, up in the top of the State.” She says eventually, lying through her teeth so she doesn’t spoil your evening. “We know he was a prisoner up there for a long while, but since the God-King let him wander around, he seems to have turned it into a lab or something. Lots of weird things go up. Sometimes the helpers get electrical burns and things, so I hear the gossip.”  
“You get around.” You say, letting her lie hold true.  
“I do.” She agrees. “He’s been working on something big for a while now. Last few days he’s completely disappeared, so I guess he must be at a crucial stage, or something.”  
“How long until I see him?” You ask and again she falters, but only for a moment.  
“You’ll have to ask His Majesty, but I think it’s not going to be for a long while.”  
“Okay. I’ve just miss him, is all.” You say and she sighs softly before nodding.  
“He missed you too.”  
Missed. Not misses, missed. Past tense. She knows, everyone knows. But she doesn’t want to hurt you and that’s pretty sweet of her. 

“So…” You decide to change the subject. Before you start bawling or something. “…you have to look after Laura for anything?”  
“What, has he beaten her or anything. That what you mean?”  
“Well after my experiences with him…”  
“It’s not much of stretch. I get it. No, I’ve not had to help her. No broken bones or suspicious accidents, or anything. He likes her, more for the company than anything, I think.”  
“My replacement…” Your voice is bitter.  
“Absolutely not.” Bethany says sharply. “No one can replace you. I mean she’s pretty…” Bethany squints at her. “But compared to you, she’s just arm candy. You’re bright and funny and clever. She’s got a brain, but she doesn’t seem to use it much. Prefers the pretty dresses and the Asgardian dance steps. She’s just something His Majesty likes to show off, nothing more.”  
You swallow down the anger, but Bethany sees it.  
“It’s gotta be hard, coming back and seeing someone else being treated like she is. But she’s not you. You’re special, you made it back. He traded a lot to get you here, ranted and raved at all the deals he had to strike, all the work he had to put into it. But he never stopped, he wanted you back so badly. He might not admit it, but I think he loves you, somewhere in that dark heart of his, behind all that emotional armour.” She glances up at the throne, where the God-King is stood, divested of his regal over-clothes, just watching the proceedings with a small smile on his face.

“He took you on, tried to dominate you, tried to turn you into a pet or something worse… But you gave back as good as you got, never gave into him. You forced him to respect you. When you disappeared a lot of people were upset, me included. But he missed you. A lot. So much I think it surprised him as well. You got under his skin.” She ruffles your hair. “Compared to that? Laura is nothing.”  
You smile up at her, genuinely comforted.  
“Thanks.”  
“No problem.” She nods and takes another sip. “Don’t you worry. You’ll run rings around her. I promise. Well, speak of the devil…”  
Laura’s seen you and is walking over. Bethany gives your shoulder another squeeze.  
“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.”  
“Sure. See you in a bit?”  
“If you think I’m leaving until all the booze is gone, you’re sorely mistaken.” She winks at you. “I don’t get many days off.”  
“Me either.”  
“Later, Short Stuff.”  
And she disappears off into the crowd. You watch her go with a smile.

“Hey. Harvey!” Laura says in greeting. She takes you by the shoulders, looks you up and down. “Is that you. Is this really you?”  
You let her man-handle you without comment and then pull away coolly. You take your plate from the table, balance it against your sling and start eating.  
“It’s really me.” You agree.  
“You’re smaller than I expected.”  
“Guess we all look bigger in the imagination.” You smile at her. “You look beautiful.”  
“Thanks.” She looks down at her dress, lifts her skirts to show you the shoes. You make the expected noises of appreciation. “I wanted to look my best. These weddings are amazing.”  
“So this isn’t the first one?”  
“Oh, gods no. There’s been at least five.” She pauses, counting on her fingers. “Yeah, five so far.”  
“So, he does this for anyone?”  
“Not anyone. Clive and Angela are the Representatives from Pens Four and Twenty-Five. You have to be high up the chain to be married by the Prince.”  
“You still call him Prince? Here, among all his subjects?”  
“No. Of course not, but between you and me, what’s the harm?” She takes a blueberry from one of the arrangements, pops it in her mouth and chews it. “And the food is always stunning.”  
“Better than military ration packs, that’s for sure.” You agree.  
“Military ration packs? Sounds like you’ve been through the wars.” She says disapprovingly.  
“One or two.” You agree.  
“Then we need to sort you out something good.” She looks at your plate and shakes her head. “You’ve just been taking randomly. Here, let me show you the proper expensive stuff.”  
She puts your plate down, grabs your hand and leads you off among the tables. You let her do it without complaint, amused by her determination. 

You watch her as she fills a new plate for you. Demands you try this or that and watches your reaction. You don’t say anything, let her boss you around. It’s kinda fun actually, almost like having a real older sister. She’s so different from the English girl that night in the throne room. Determined and scared, but strong and ready for anything. Her accent has changed, some of her vowels are the same, but it’s evident that the God-King has been working on it, trying to make her sound more posh – more like him. He’s only had limited success, but you can still hear it.

She’s more confident too, bolstered by his care for her. Everyone shows her at least a little bit of deference and it’s had its effect on her general attitude. But she’s not nasty with it, not puffed up. It’s gone to her head, no doubt, but it hasn’t made her stuck up. The same people who show her special treatment are eyeing you up carefully, too. There’s an awe for you that isn’t there for her, though you both share the same mark. She’s oblivious to it, but you’re not. You’ve spent months keeping on your toes, being aware of the attitudes of those around you. Keeping them happy as best you can, reading them as a matter of survival. These people like Laura, they care for her. With you, there’s a reverential feel. They know her, but they don’t know you. You’re a mixture of stories and of gossip, the Child Who Returned.  
And the Norse were all about their stories, weren’t they? 

“Have you tried the caviar yet?” Laura asks and you wordlessly shake your head. She grins at you. “Never tried it either, huh? I hadn’t, not until I got here. It’s super salty, but good, really good. Here.” She offers you a spoonful and you dutifully take it.  
“Ugh.” You make a face and she giggles. “Why’s that so expensive? It tastes like… ugh…”  
“Same as oysters I guess, they’re all snot and slippery stuff.” She shrugs. “But posh people like ‘em. So they got expensive.”  
“So, you’re really getting into this, aren’t you? Being one the God-King’s Children.” You say and she makes a face.  
“I’m not really his kid, not like you. I’m more… a companion of sorts…?” She shrugs. “He likes to dress me up and show me off and I’m not complaining, I’ve had worse. And he saved my mum.” She gives a big sigh of gratitude. “But I’m not really family, not like you.”  
“I think family’s a bit strong…”  
“You and him, you share something I can’t touch.” She says, tapping her head. “He says we’re bonded, but I can’t tell the difference between when I was still in New York and now. Not beyond the obvious. But you two, I saw the look you exchanged when you walked up to the throne. There’s a lot going on between you that I have no clue about.” She takes a mouthful of caviar and smiles in pleasure, swallowing before continuing. “Not that I mind. I kind of like to keep it simple.” 

“You know, if you want… I could try and show you how to do the telepathy…” You lift one of the weird little puff-pastry things that Laura calls voulevants from your plate and take a hesitant bite. It’s good and you finish it quickly licking your lips and look across the table for more.  
“You could?” Her voice is cautious. “The Prince said it couldn’t be done.”  
“Well, he’s kinda all or nothing.” You find the arrangement you’re looking for and pile them high on your plate. “His teaching methods are…” You shrug. “Uhm, pretty steep on the learning curve. If I wasn’t lucky and naturally good at it, I’d be out at sea as well.”  
“Will it hurt?”  
“It shouldn’t do. While I was miles away it was impossible. But here, touching, I think I might be able to show you. But you’d have to activate it.” You pause, eating and thinking. “You know the time when he, well, went a bit nuts and I showed you how to contact me?”  
“Yeah. And I forgot how to do that pretty fast... I’m so rubbish…” Laura looks away embarrassed.  
“Hey.” You catch her arm. “It just takes practise. And it didn’t hurt, did it?”  
“No…” She agrees reluctantly. “But Harvey, that stuff. It scares me.”  
You snort.  
“Tell me something I don’t know.” You see the look on her face, realise she’s just taken that comment personally and back-track. “No, what I meant was, well… It scares me too. It big and vast and pretty terrifying at times. Of course it is. There’s no shame… I didn’t mean to belittle you or for it to sound like I was…. Just that I’m scared of it too sometimes as well, y’know?”  
“Yeah. Okay.” She nods, mollified by your quick talking. Shit, what had Natasha said about him undermining her confidence? Sure, out and about she’s all regal splendour, but inside, she’s completely vulnerable. Convinced she’s less than you. You feel like a heel for the way you’ve thought about her before. She needs you, now more than ever.  
“Come on, let me show you.” You offer your palm, circle up and she takes it with her unmarked hand.

And the God-King is instantly there, just behind your mind. Watching closely. Ready with the punishment. You glance at the throne and see him watching you, his eyes narrowed. You nod at him and smile reassuringly, but his expression doesn’t change. You turn back and look at Laura. You swallow nervously before continuing, keeping your manner encouraging.  
“Ready?”  
“Sure.”  
You move into her mind, feeling the barriers the God-King has put up. If he wanted he could keep you out, but instead he lets you through, watching but not participating. He’s been hard at work in there, changing the landscape, her mind is full of his threads.  
Like your brain is full of his wires…  
You blink.  
Not a helpful thought right now… 

“Can you hear me?” You ask, moving past the threads, contorting yourself so you don’t disturb any of them.  
“Sure, Harvey.” She says out-loud and you laugh.  
“Just think it, okay? Think it and direct it at me.”  
She scrunches her face up with the effort. The first couple of times you feel her intent but not her words and then…  
“..ou hear me?” It’s faint. You latch on and amplify it.  
“Yes I can.”  
“This is so weird.” She says just in her mind, her face a picture of concentration.  
“I know.” You offer her another spoon of caviar and she takes is smiling. “It just takes practice.”  
“Can I…? Uhm, do it myself? If you’re not touching me…?” She asks, her mouth still full of caviar, talking fully with just her mind.  
“Want to try?”  
“Yes.” She nods.

You let her go and the connection from her side instantly drops. She swallows and bites her bottom lip.  
You reach out with your thoughts, encouraging her.  
“…eally… h-rd… can’t…” It’s like a bad radio signal.  
“Focus. Put everything you have into it.” You tell her and she nods, closing her eyes with the effort.  
“Harvey?” You catch the connection again and strengthen it, let her feel the nub in her mind where both of you are joined.  
“Yeah. I hear you.”  
She opens her eyes, her face filled with joy.  
“This is… This is great…” She says in her head while laughing out loud.  
“See. I knew you could do it.”  
“Thanks, Harvey. But this is tiring and I’ve got a long night ahead. Could we try this properly another time?”  
“Sure.” You break the connection and you see relief flicker across her face.  
“Those last sentences were really… I feel like I’ve gone for a run. My heart is racing.” She puts her hand on her chest. She seems to actually be out of breath.  
“We’ll work on it. Slowly.” You promise her and you feel the God-King’s approval as he withdraws from your mind. He starts to walk down the steps and into the crowd. He smiles as people acknowledge him, bowing and welcoming him among them. He reaches out to a few, putting his hand on their head as if in benediction and they respond as if his touch is sacred. He really is taking this whole God-King thing really, really seriously. 

“The only thing I’ve ever had like that before is when the Prince wants me to do things.” Laura continues on, she starts to spoon the caviar onto her plate. “But it’s more like an urge.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Like.” She pauses thinking. “Like, something I want to do, somewhere I want to go. But I don’t want to do it. It’s external. Uhm…” She eats a spoon of caviar thoughtfully. “Like, he ordered me to his bedroom once and I didn’t know the layout, I’d never been in there before. But I knew what he wanted me to get from his sideboard and that he was in the kitchen waiting for me…”  
“Uh-huh?” You don’t like where this is going.

“Yeah. And other times he’s called me for meals and stuff. I know when he wants to see me. When he wants me to come to him. It’s like a nudge or something. And he only does it when he can’t talk to me, when a place is too noisy or we’re rooms apart. He’s not rude or anything.”  
“And he is kind to you, right?” You say and she looks at you.  
“Most of the time, yeah. I mean, he has his moods. But who doesn’t…”  
A flash of her on her knees, crying, begging him. Her back is covered in bruises and he’s stood there, his lip curled in disgust, his face completely impassive.  
You shiver.  
“But other times, he’s so lovely, so receptive.”  
She on her back and he’s on top of her, his skin cool to the touch. He strokes her hair back off her face and he leans down, his manner predatory. He fiercely claims her mouth with his…  
You back out of her mind and put your shields up. You don’t need this.  
“It’s…” She sighs, leaning back against the table. “It’s complicated.”  
“Sure.” You nod in understanding. “I get that.” 

She looks at you.  
“I’m glad you’re back, Harvey. I’m glad you’re here. It’s hard, facing him alone.”  
You step forward and touch her cheek.  
“I’m here for you. Always.”  
“Thanks, Harvey.”  
You feel it then, a sharp nudge in her head, a tug on the threads in her mind. She visibly jerks and looks over to where the God-King is watching you both. He gestures imperiously.  
“I’ve… I’ve got to go.”  
“We’re here all night. Save a dance for me, yeah?” You grin and she smiles wanly back.  
“Sure.” Her tone is distracted.  
“You can teach me some steps.”  
There’s another hard tug.  
“I’ll see you later, Harvey.”  
She puts the plate to one side and walks over to him. The God-King puts his arm around her shoulders and steers her off into the crowd. He stops at a group of men, all of them dressed in finery. They look Laura up and down as they strike up a conversation with him.

“Well. She’s being sold for the night.”  
You look over at the speaker lounging about five feet away. It’s the man in the expensive suit and the collar. He’s picking at a slice of cooked salmon with a silver fork. He doesn’t look overly hungry.  
“You were listening in?” You ask, you tone combative and he raises an eyebrow at you.  
“I was curious and you weren’t being careful.” He shrugs. “You want an apology?” His tone indicates you aren’t going to get one.  
“And who are you?” You ask. He puts down the salmon and gives a small bow.  
“Name’s Nathan Drake. Consort of the God-King of the World.” He grins sardonically. “Or something similar.”  
“Nathan Drake, really?”  
“Really.” He smiles. It’s a nice smile, though his eyes are filled with cynicism.  
“And what does consort mean?” You ask, you tone still suspicious, but you’re already warming to him.  
He touches his collar.  
“What do you think?” He asks, shrugging.  
“I think I don’t want to know.” You say carefully and he nods.  
“They said you were bright.”  
“Who’s ‘They’?”  
“People, in general. You’ve got quite a story going already. If you hadn’t already guessed. Next time they write a book of Norse myths, expect to at least be in the foot-notes.”  
“Great.”

You both go quiet for a minute, both picking at your food. You glance over to Laura and see that she’s talking to the men, her body language deferential.  
“You know where the alcohol is?” You ask him. “I think I could do with a glass.”  
“What are you? Twelve?” He asks, looking at you suspiciously.  
“I’m fifteen and I’ve already been given permission.”  
“Well, it’s your head.” He shrugs again. It seems to be one of his favourite gestures. “Come on, I’ll go show you were to get it.”  
You follow him to a table off to one side, near the servant doors. The servers are dressed like waiters and waitresses everywhere, with the white shirt and the black waistcoat with bowtie. They’re the only servants in the room without blue-frosted eyes. They give him two glasses without a single word and he passes one to you. The liquid is a pale yellow and has bubbles in it. You take a cautious sip.  
“Hmmm. What is this?” You ask as you walk back to the food.  
“Champagne.”  
“Oh.” You look at it.  
“Not impressed?”  
“Thought it’d be nicer. People always go on about it.”  
“Well it’s not the best. Maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll find some of the good stuff and slip you a glass later on.” He winks at you.  
“It kinda tastes like flat wine.” You say. “Which is weird, since it’s got so many bubbles in it.”  
“It is, indeed, a drink of contradictions.” He says and you smile.  
“You’re alright, Mr Drake.” You say and he rolls his eyes.  
“Nathan. Please. Not Mr Drake.” He takes a mouthful of his drink. “It makes me feel ancient.”  
“Okay.” You grin.  
Again there’s a moment of companionable silence. You’re already very comfortable around him. It’s weird, like you’ve known him for ages.

“So, what do you do, Nathan?” You ask after a short while.  
“I’m an architect.” He raises his glass to gesture as he speaks. “And a bit of an interior designer. I picked out these chandeliers.”  
“They’re nice.”  
“Anything’s better than severed heads on poles. For a man of taste, I really had to wonder what he was thinking with that.”  
“He’s not a man. And I’m guessing he was thinking intimidation and a message of dominance.”  
“No he’s not. And you’re probably right. He doesn’t need that any more. He’s won here. Anyone who stood against him is long dead – or…” He gestures to his chest miming an electric shock, then makes a zombie impersonation, his arms ridged for a minute, before he relaxes again. “Blued-eyed and silent…” He shakes his head and sips at his champagne again, hooking his thumb casually into his trouser pocket with his free hand. But you see the slight tremor in his fingers. “I’m glad I’m immune to it.”  
“Immune?”  
“Have immunity from it, I mean. That he knows he doesn’t need it to make me toe the line.” He looks down at you. “Sorry, kid. All doom and gloom today.”  
“It’s alright.” You walk forward and push at his arm so that he has to put it around your waist. He looks at you surprised. You are as well, but you hide it and press your head against the soft fabric of his suit.  
“You seem like a nice person, Nathan.” You say to cover up your sudden discomfort. “I’m getting good at reading people.”  
“You are, are you?” He says, putting down the champagne and deliberately disengaging from the hug. “Well, maybe not in public, huh?”  
“Maybe not.” You agree, relieved that he took it so well. What’s wrong with you? You hardly know him. But he feels so… familiar…  
You shake your head. You’ve been through way too much. It’s no wonder you’re doing strange stuff right now. 

“So how did you meet? The God-King and you, I mean.”  
“I was helping with a project in Pen Seventeen on the day he decided to open a harem.” Nathan picks up his drink again. “I blundered into the meeting. I had a deadline and I needed to talk to the Representative and no one had bothered to tell me the God-King had showed up unannounced. He had all these people lined up, but he didn’t like any of them. He was shouting and our Representative looked like he was about to die from fear. He didn’t deserve it. Dennis is a good man. Not that it mattered. Then the God-King took one look at me and that was it. He wanted me.”  
He shrugs loosely.  
“They tried to explain that I was needed there, that I was working on the construction, but he didn’t care. I ended up on the harem level, locked in my room until I agreed to behave.”  
“Shit.”  
“Yeah.” He gives you a half smile. “The first few times he drugged me with wine. Then, after that, he terrorised me into doing what he wanted. He can change the world around you… It’s not real, but it sure feels it.”  
“I know. I’ve seen it.”  
“After a while, we started talking. The war was turning his way and he was calmer, overall. So he offered me a permanent room up on his floor and a job fully co-ordinating the rebuild effort. In return for going to his bed whenever he wanted. Of course.”  
“Of course.”  
“But it’s good work, rewarding work. And he makes sure I eat and dress well…” He looks at his empty glass and scowls. “You want a refill?”  
“Sure.” You offer the glass and he takes it and walks back to the table.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this.” He says as he comes back with a tray. There are six glasses on it. He’s here for the long haul.  
“It’s okay. I’m used to it. He did that stuff to me too. Well, maybe not the sex, but everything else.” You take one of the glasses and have another, bubbly mouthful. “He used to drug me and then get in my head. Search my memories and make me do stuff I didn’t want to.” You shrug. “It is what it is.”  
“Yeah.” Nathan smiles. “It’s weird. I don’t know you except for the stories, but somehow I know I can trust you to get me.”  
You exchange a glance, a moment of weird understanding. Like you both know each other from a different life. Natasha needn’t have worried. You have friends here.  
“Why’d you come back?” He asks and you shake your head.  
“Uh-huh. Not allowed to say. But it was for good reasons.”  
“Well I wouldn’t come back for anything else.” Nathan agrees. He raises his glass.  
“To returning to the lion’s den, for good reasons.” He winks and you grin. You clink glasses.

You look over to where Laura’s standing and see that she’s been paired off with one of the men. She’s smiling, but it’s all fake. The man and the God-King shake hands.  
“So what’s that all about?” You ask and Nathan sighs.  
“People want a night with the God-King’s Daughter. That’s what it’s all about.”  
“So he has formally adopted her, then?”  
“Kind of. It’s more the name people give her. It’s better than the God-King’s Pet, but that’s what other people say when they’re out of earshot. It doesn’t bother her much and it’s way nicer than what they say about me.” He makes a face. Then shrugs again.  
“And she goes along with it?”  
“How’s she supposed to say no?” He looks at the scene, finishing his second glass with a single tip back of his head, then takes his third without looking. “I think she fought at first, but His Majesty always gets his way.”  
“Yeah. I get that.”  
“It’ll be an internal trade, for servants or services or crafting. Something like that. The God-King has stopped just taking what he wants, he’s trying to get trade up and running again.”  
“Does he have his own bank notes?” You ask and you both stop to ponder what they would look like. You both start to laugh. Nathan shakes his head.

“He’s sticking with the dollar right now, exchange rates and so on. It’s still pretty strong, compared to everything else. The whole market crashed when he took New York. But his subjects are hard-working and he’s sorting out trade deals like you wouldn’t believe. You’d think people would refuse him. But they never do, not in the long run.”  
“I guess as a Prince of Asgard, he’s got a lot of practice.”  
“Maybe he does, at that.” Nathan agrees.  
The God-King looks over and you feel a little pull in your mind.  
“Great. My turn.” You grab a refill and start to head on over.  
“Don’t sell yourself short.” Nathan calls after you. “Get a camel at least.”  
You throw him the bird and he starts laughing. 

“Well, you’re making friends.” The God-King says in greeting.  
“Nathan seems to be okay.” You nod. “He’s got a good sense of humour.”  
“Yes. He has.” The God-King agrees with a fleeting smile on his face. He almost says something else and you know it was going to be filthy. But he remembers who he’s talking to and vetoes it. Instead he falls back on parental worry. He taps the champagne flute.  
“How many?”  
“Three.” You say and he scowls. “But I’m used to Russian vodka. This isn’t anything compared to that.” You shrug, peering into the glass. “And it isn’t all that good.”  
“It’s from my cheaper cellars.” The God-King agrees, he takes your hand and steers you away through the crowd. “So you learned taste on your little jaunt out into the world?”  
“I think so.” You peer into the glass again. “Or I just know what I like.”  
“It’s a good place to start.” He agrees. 

“Where are we going?” You ask, looking around. He’s leading you away from the throne and the dance floor and off to a curtained off space behind the elevator.  
“I’m going to show you off a little.”  
“Oh?” You look at him for answers, but he just grins.  
“Oh indeed.”  
He pushes back the curtain and leads you through. His grip on your hand is gentle, but firm and though you’re a little nervous, you have no choice but to follow. Once you get onto the other side you look around in amazement. You’d forgotten that the elevator was in the centre of the room, not at the edge, so there’s as much floor area back here as there is on the other side, but with much more unused space. The beginning of the early winter sunset comes flooding in from outside bathing everything in oranges and reds. You’ve been wandering around the party for hours, but behind the throne, the void fills the sky, so you hadn’t noticed. In the centre of the room a crowd of people are clustered in a loose circle, about as big as the dance floor. There are too many people to see what they are watching from this far away. 

“Normally this is curtained off for the servants. Or for applicants to wait their turn to see me on my public days.”  
“So what’s happening today?”  
“Public shows of strength and skill.”  
“Oh.” You look at the crowd uncertainly as the God-King leads you closer.  
“It’s a proud Asgardian tradition.”  
“Okay.”  
“You don’t sound thrilled.” The God-King says dryly.  
“Uhm… What do you want me to do?”  
“Fight in my honour.”  
You look up at him. You look down at your sling.  
“You’re kidding.”  
“It’s just play.” He assures you. “We have medical staff on stand-by, just in case there’s an accident.”  
“Not Bethany?”  
“No. It’s her day off and nothing bad is going to happen. We won’t need a surgeon.”  
You look at him nervously and he squeezes your hand in a reassuring manner.  
“You’ll be fine.”

The crowd is an even mix of men and women. They’re grinning and shouting support, but not being overly rowdy. The music drowns out what they’re doing from the other side of the elevator. If the God-King hadn’t brought you here, you probably wouldn’t have heard it, or gone exploring back behind the curtain. It’s not as pretty, there aren’t any decorations and the floor is carpeted, rather than marble. A large amount of reed mats have been thrown on the floor to make the ground softer and everyone is standing on them, rather than the carpet. When people see you and the God-King approaching they start to mutter and make room, giving both of you respectful half bows.

“Who’s fighting?” The God-King asks as you get closer. A large man with a note pad steps forward and flips it open to the brown ribbon he’s using as a bookmark.  
“The Mighty Thor. Unbeaten, at the moment.”  
“Excellent.” The God-King grins. “Has he many challengers?”  
“There’s a list, but if you want to step in…”  
“Not me. My child would be eager to trade blows though.”  
You look up at the God-King. You look at the man. You both exchange uncertain glances.  
“Are you sure, your Majesty? I mean he’s a big fellow and well…” The man’s eyes are fixed on your sling.  
“My child has handled worse.” The God-King says firmly.  
“Well, if you’re sure…”  
“I am.”  
He nods and starts to make notes. 

“I’m fighting who!?” You whisper urgently as the man walks off and starts talking to the punters.  
“It’s just a mortal who’s taken the name. He does it to amuse me.” The God-King smiles. “You must remember Patrick.”  
“Yeah…?” You say uncertainly.  
“Well, he’s found a better way to entertain me since his days in my harem.”  
The crowd part as the God-King brings you forward and you finally see the fighters.  
Patrick is dressed in a parody of the real Crown Prince’s armour. It’s cut black leather with flat aluminium circles and cheap red fabric for the vambraces. He’s grown his hair out and you have to admit it’s exactly the same shade, though his eyes are a darker blue. And he’s been working out, he’s much more muscular than he was, though he’s fighting with a staff, rather than a hammer. His opponent is also holding a staff, though he’s dressed more regularly, in jogging bottoms and a hastily sewn leather shirt for protection. They’ve just pulled back and are circling each other, looking for an opening. Patrick’s opponent is already sporting a bruise on his face and favouring his right hand over his left, as if he’s been caught hard on the wrist. 

“So, why is there fighting, again?” You ask and the God-King laughs.  
“Have you ever been to a wedding?” He asks.  
“Yeah. Once. One of mum’s work friends.”  
“And there were no disagreements during it?”  
“No. Oh… uhm… wait… There was a fight in the carpark, I think. At least there was shouting and mum told me to stay inside for a bit, but… I don’t know.”  
Patrick lunges forward and the other man backs off, moving his staff into a defensive position. There are a few exploratory attacks, the crack of wood meeting wood. But nothing comes of it.  
The man is definitely favouring his right over his left.

“Weddings bring out the worst in some people.” The God-King continues after pausing to watch the fight. “Old family feuds come to the fore, old hatreds get stoked up. People who have avoided each other for years suddenly find themselves honour-bound to turn up, but cannot put the past behind them. I have arranged this, for entertainment at first, but I am sure as the night grows long and the wine flows free that more family members will be in the ring than the paid-for fighters.”  
“And it’s full contact, but no permanent injury?”  
“Precisely.”  
“Huh.”  
“Of course, on other days, it gets quite a bit more bloody. I allow trial by combat, among other things, and the fighting ring is brought out to accommodate the crowd.”  
“Among other things?” You ask suspiciously.  
“Howard’s Child used to love his blood sport.” The God-King says gesturing to the fighters. “He didn’t like the killing so much, but the ferocity, the passion! He used to drink it up and shout with the rest.”

You bite your lip. It’s painful, hearing him lie about Mr Stark like that. But lying with reason. Pretending to be talking about Mr Stark, which means the other gods are watching right now, and don’t they just love their death count… You glance up at him and he gives you a tight smile. He doesn’t like this either. It’s not his style, but the gods must have their due.  
“Is the play pit the same, then?” You ask him, looking back to the fight in progress. “Did he like that as well?”  
“Sometimes he’d order me to go down there and play so he could watch.” The God-King nods, a little sadly. “So demanding, for a mortal.”  
“Well he never was one for half measures.”  
“No.”  
The man takes the fight forward this time, trying to get Patrick on the offensive, to get him into a place where his right wrist won’t be a hindrance. Patrick isn’t having any of it, lashing out at the man’s weaker side, slamming his stick into the other man’s weapon to try and sprain his left wrist as well. The man winces and pulls back. This fight is almost over.  
“I’ll miss him.” You say quietly.  
“I know, but at least you have Nathan now, and Barton, once I set him free.”  
You look up at him in surprise.

You’re actually going to let him go?”  
“Of course.”  
“But, don’t you need him for the war effort?”  
“Things are escalating nicely at the moment. The Captain is very useful, as a symbol if nothing else. But Barton has started taking a back seat more and more. I have a real army now, a loyal mortal army. He’s very useful as support, but he isn’t visible in combat, so his use for morale purposes is limited. And, while he’s a very able strategist, I don’t need that on the field. He can stay here and do his job while keeping you company.”  
Patrick lashes out, moving forward decisively. As the man brings the staff up, Patrick feints and scores a hard hit on the man’s right wrist, making him cry out and almost drop the weapon. A quick spin and Patrick has him disarmed with both staves in his hands. He throws it away, into the crowd and someone catches it and takes it out of the ring. The man lunges forward, grabbing the centre part of the remaining weapon and for a moment they struggle for dominance. But Patrick is the stronger. He starts grinning, forcing the man backward onto his knees. The crowd starts chanting. 

“I am also mindful of the fact that when I let Barton go, his use to me will be limited for a while.” The God-King continues, watching the fight with a bored interest. “He will be traumatised by being held against his will for so long. And he is moral enough to feel shame for the things he was forced to do while under my control.”  
“None of them were his fault.” You protest and the God-King shrugs.  
“No. But he will act as if they were.”  
“Then I’ll make a point of putting him right.” You say fiercely and the God-King smiles at you.  
“I know she did it for you, you know.” He says pointedly.  
“What?”  
“That Ms Romanov asked for Barton’s freedom for you. Because she was worried you’d be alone here when you returned. That you would be trapped with me with no back-up now that Stark is gone. I’m a hard teacher and a difficult master and I make no apologies or excuses for that. But you need help, you need someone on side and Barton will help you, will keep you sane in ways I cannot.” He sighs and squeezes your hand as you smile at him timidly. 

“You’re okay.” You say, softly.  
“Just okay?” He asks, amused.  
“More than okay. I chose to come back. I fought to come back. Because I’m meant to be here, with you. I’m meant to be in New York.” You look at your feet. “Scary as you are, you’re the one that can teach me who I really am. The only one. You’re the only one who knows what I’m going through, the only one who can help me and guide me through it. So… yeah… you’re okay.”  
“Scamp.” But he laughs. “After all I’ve put you though, I suppose I can live with it.”  
You look up at him and grin as he looks at you sardonically.  
“And the Spider’s right, it is time to free him. Much longer and I risk breaking our agreement. He cannot take much more, he cannot continue to serve me in this way. If I keep him much longer, he will try to suicide when I release him. This way is neater. Everyone wins.”  
“Except for Hawkeye.”  
“Well…” And the God-King smiles. “A lesser victory is still a victory. And trust me, getting free of the Sceptre will be a victory for him.”  
“I guess.” You say uncertainly and the God-King ruffles your hair.  
“Such a little whiner.” He shakes his head in mock disappointment. “One day I might cure you of it.”  
“If you did, you’d miss it.”  
“You’re probably right.”  
“It’s good to be back, Majesty.”  
“I’m glad to hear it.” And his smile takes on that dangerous edge. “Now, are you ready to fight for my honour?”  
Patrick has the other man on his back, both staffs are gone now as they wrestle for the final victory. Patrick is trying to get the man’s left wrist and the man is going for Patrick’s eyes, trying in one last valiant attempt to get the upper-hand.

“Of course.” You say, affecting a casual attitude. “What happens if I lose?”  
“Then I take the money I lost out of your hide tomorrow.”  
“Wait, you’re betting? On me?”  
“Absolutely. You think the Mighty Thor could have survived HYDRA? Could have survived getting out of Sokovia? Could have given my brother a run for his money?” His looks down at you with cocky pride. “I’d bet on you any day. So you’d better not shame me in front of all these people.”  
Your smile becomes nervous.  
“Can I use my daggers?”  
“Don’t be ridiculous. In fact, give them to me right now.”  
You hand them over reluctantly.  
“Now go and make me proud.” He winks at you and you jump when he slips a little charge into your circle. Just magical energy, not a spell or anything. Just a little something to give you the edge. You let go of his hand and run your thumb over your palm. The metal tingles and you nod. 

Patrick gets his arm around the other man’s throat, and manages to pin him securely to the mats. Everyone pauses and looks to the God-King. He smiles at Patrick, shakes his head and gives a thumbs up. There’s a small grumble of disappointment and Patrick lets the man go with reluctance.  
“No death today. Not on a wedding.” The God-King says sternly, looking around the crowd and you realise with a start that Patrick had been hoping to kill his adversary. As had a few people in the audience. It should horrify you, but knowing the Master that sits behind the God-King’s eyes, you aren’t really very surprised. At least there’s no question of it happening to you.  
This is just a bit of fun.

“Next fight, the Mighty Thor against the God-King’s Child!” The large man calls out and there’s a murmur of interest. You glance at the God-King for permission before stepping out onto the mats and facing Patrick. The other vanquished fighter quickly makes his escape. Patrick’s big now, really big, maybe even bigger than his dad was. His muscles bulge and gleam in the sunlight, slightly oiled to give them a nice sheen. This is just as much showing off as it is actual fighting. He grins as you square off against him, dwarfing you by at least a foot and a half. He has both hands, the reach, height and strength advantage. You smile back, shoulders relaxed and your sling holding your broken arm snuggly against your broken ribs. You cradle the charge in your hand. If you were fully healed, he wouldn’t stand a chance.  
You watch the God-King out of the corner of your eye as he makes his way to the large man. He talks to him briefly and there’s a rustle of paper as the God-King counts out his bet. You don’t take your eyes from Patrick, nor him from you. But right now the God-King is the centre of attention.  
“Betting has started.” The large man announces.  
Patrick flickers his eyes to invite you to walk around the arena with him, to show yourself off. You nod and both of you break off eye contact to give the punters a better look at you both. You carefully unclip the cloak from your shoulders and shrug out of the surcoat, carefully sliding the sling through the armhole so you don’t get tangled. You wish you could take off the jacket as well, you work better with good speed and agility and the leather is restrictive. But the sling makes it impossible, the surcoat was over the knotted silk, but the jacket is under it, you’d need someone to undo your sling and re-tie it and you don’t have the time. Reluctantly, you remove your circlet of roses as well, you wouldn’t want them to get damaged. You fold them as best you can at the place where the God-King was standing before he went off to bet. No one would dare touch them anyway. 

People are making their way around the circle to add to the betting pot, a lot of them are eyeing you speculatively. You know that in normal circumstances they would think you didn’t have a chance against Patrick. He looks every inch the seasoned fighter and his armour looks intimidating and far more robust than your soft leather trousers and jacket. You’re short, scrawny, maybe good at skirmishing, but not for the wrestling hand-to-hand you’ve signed up for. Especially not with an obviously damaged arm. Patrick has the reach, the physical strength and he’s a favourite, he’s done this countless times before. What do you have? The God-King’s faith and his approval. That’s more than enough to set seeds of doubt in their minds.

“They’re all gonna bet for you.” Patrick says quietly. “Means more in the pot for me when I push your face into the ground.  
“We get a share too?”  
“Yup.” He smiles. “Otherwise it wouldn’t be worth it.”  
“I’m probably not going to get a share.” You say. “He’ll keep mine, no doubt.”  
“No doubt.” Patrick agrees. “But then, you aren’t in this professionally.”  
“No.”  
“Which is why you’re gonna lose.” Patrick looks at you with distain. “You can take a beating, wouldn’t be here otherwise, but this isn’t the same thing.”  
You glance around first, but no one’s really paying attention to this conversation. They’re all trying to get their bets in before the fight starts. You turn and look him up and down with distain.  
“You think I’ve never fought before?” You laugh at him. “You think I’ve never won?”  
“If killing was allowed…” Patrick says, trying to be threatening and you shake your head.  
“It’d make my life easier. For sure.” You look at him sideways, checking the God-King as he makes his way back to where you were standing. He picks up the cloak and surcoat, looping the circlet on his wrist as he watches the others placing their bets. “Subduing you is going to be harder for me. You have the edge in that.” You look back at him. “But if I was allowed to finish you, then I wouldn’t have to be so careful.”  
Patrick looks at you uncertainly.  
“Yes.” You say quietly, unflinchingly. “I have killed before.”  
The look on his face makes it all worthwhile.

“Are the bets all counted?” The God-King asks and the large man nods. Both you and Patrick move to opposite sides of the arena, you stand straight and bow to him. Patrick just sneers.  
The God-King waits until everyone is back in their places and settled before lifting his arm and letting it drop decisively.  
“Begin!”  
Patrick springs at you the second the God-King gives the command. You dance nimbly away. He’s bigger than you, he’s stronger and heavier. You can’t let him get a good grip. But you’re faster, and more experienced. Compared to the people you’ve sparred with, have fought life and death with, Patrick’s slow and clumsy.  
He tries to turn with you, to grab your hair, or catch the silk of your sling, but you duck and roll, coming out into a combat stance at the other end of the arena with a cocky grin.  
You gesture him forward with an index finger.  
You can hear the God-King laughing.  
Patrick scowls.

He lunges again, pressing you, trying to make you stumble. You dodge and dart about, not getting in close, but not pulling away either. Judging his fighting style as he judges yours. You’ve never felt this level of control in a fight before, never been so at ease in such a situation. For the first time you’re the better fighter and you know it. Patrick’s all muscle, but no flexibility. He knows hand-to-hand in a text-book training way. He’s never been swept out by Black Widow or thrown across a clearing by Thor. He doesn’t understand dirty fighting, not really, not beyond a few one-on-one skirmishes. He wouldn’t be able to keep a HYDRA soldier at bay.  
Time to have some fun.

You let him catch you, pretend that you didn’t see the grab coming. He catches your good wrist, grins with triumph and pulls you in. You go with the flow, pretend to be dismayed and then twist suddenly as he’s about to bear-hug you. Your heel takes him in the gut as you use it to spring board higher. You slip your hand out of his grip and punch him hard under the jaw, putting your body weight behind it. His head snaps back and he staggers, his arms out and hands splayed to try and keep his balance. You bounce neatly onto the mats and take a few steps away to allow him to recover. You can hear the audience murmuring with surprise.  
Patrick shakes his head and glares at you. He’s bitten his tongue and there’s blood on his lips. He spits it out and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.  
“Shit head.” He mutters at you. “I’m gonna make you pay for that.”  
You lick your lips and wink at him.  
“Bring it.”

Everyone wants a show and so you give it to them, draw it out for their entertainment. Half a dozen times in the clashes you could take Patrick out easily, but instead you dodge and out-manoeuvre him. Giving him cuts and bruises with well-timed attacks when he’s not expecting them. You gain a few scratches and bruises yourself, sometimes you have to let him in close to pull off what you want to achieve and he gets in a few licks, but never manages to get in a decisive hit or grab your sling. He never manages to use your broken arm against you, he’s just too slow and you easily give him the slip every time he tries it. It’s fun, you’re enjoying this. But you’re mindful of the God-King and when he finally gives a small shake of his head, you get the message. Time to end it.

You flex you right hand, letting the charge out in a controlled gesture. It shimmers as it escapes the circle, flowing out over your palm. You micro-manage it, forcing it to merge with the black marks on your wrist and hand, making them seem to glow and shift. It’s just for effect, there’s no real power behind the colouring, it does nothing but make your skin tingle. The full force of the charge is still grounded in the disc. If Patrick touched your hand he would have no ill effects. But it looks good and intimidating. Patrick eyes it nervously.  
“What, scared of a kid?” You ask him.  
“You’re not a kid.” Patrick says. “I’m not even sure you’re human anymore.”  
“I’ve been trained by a God.” You say grinning. “I know things you can’t imagine.” You pause for extra effect. “But I’m still human.”  
You can feel the God-King’s amusement. He’s enjoying this as much as you are.  
“Come on.” You taunt him. “Or are you scared? You can concede any time you like.” 

Patrick growls and lunges for you. You move just enough so that his attack grazes you rather than taking you bodily down. But it’s enough to knock you to your knees. You feign surprised dismay and pretend to injury. Patrick turns, catching your glowing hand hard at the forearm, so you can’t touch him with it, and pushing you down to the ground as he twists it behind your back.  
“Fuck you, you little freak show.” He hisses in your ear, getting his knee into your back. “When I’m finished with you – once you wake up again – your God is gonna beat you bloody for losing him all his cash.”  
You smile serenely into the mat and concentrate. It’s all part of the show. You call on the charge and let it travel down your arm, engulfing Patricks fingers. Then you release the first shock.  
Patrick squeals, actually squeals and tries to pull his hand back, but he can’t. You’ve deadened the muscle all the way up to the elbow. You pull your arm from behind your back, escaping his limp fingers with ease. 

Patrick tries to back off, but he’s sluggish from his surprise and no-where near quick enough. As his knee leaves your back you twist and place the circle on his leg. Another shock deadens that limb as well. Patrick falls hard on his ass and gives a cry of fear. You stand casually, dusting off your trousers and readjusting your sling before looking at the terrified man sitting on the ground before you.  
“It’s just a shock, it isn’t permanent.” You say to reassure him. The crowd is deathly quiet.  
You drop to one knee in front of him.  
“This isn’t going to hurt.” You promise him. “You won’t feel a thing. Though you might have a headache when you wake up.”  
“What… what are you going to do?” Patrick asks, almost begging you and you smile. You lean forward and kiss his forehead. Then you wipe a bit of blood off his split lip and taste it.  
His terror is raw. He hasn’t been this scared since the day his dad died.  
He thinks you’re going to torture him, like the God-King did, only here, now, in front of everyone.  
He thinks you’re a monster.  
You sigh and shake your head.  
“You’ll be awake again before the party’s over. But I wouldn’t fight again tonight if I were you.” 

You close your eyes, feeling his blood on your tongue, pushing past the initial emotions. His mind is so clear, so unshielded, you can read his surface thoughts through the taste of his blood. You’ve never been able to do that before. But he’s so mortal, so fragile.  
Maybe you are changing, maybe he’s right, maybe you’re not human anymore…  
He hates you as much as he fears you. You’re a symbol to him, of something far worse than the Chitauri or the God-King. He thinks you’re a traitor to your race. That you’ve traded your soul for temporal power. That the whole ‘kidnap’ thing was just a ruse while the God-King experimented on you to turn you into something else, something inhuman. And he thinks you were fully complicit.  
It hurts to know what he thinks of you, but at the same time, it’s good to know. If he thinks this then other people will as well and you’re ready for it now.  
Anything for an edge in this new environment. 

You push past his surface thoughts once you’ve read enough and further into his emotions. He’s already fought three times today and you grasp the fatigue in his muscles and push it into his mind. You feel his body falter as you press him further and implant a strong suggestion to fall asleep. Patrick gasps as he falls limp. You catch him, though he’s too heavy to hold up, you can control his fall enough that you guide him onto the mat. You lay his head down carefully so he doesn’t hurt himself.  
“Sleep well.” You tell him gently.  
You wait two heart beats, letting the tension build and then you look up, searching out the God-King in the audience.  
“Did I do it right?” You ask him with a childish lilt to your voice. “Did I fight like you wanted?” You bite your bottom lip. “Did I say everything right? Did I sound like a real warrior?” You widen your eyes to enhance the cute hope in your voice and everyone starts to laugh.  
All but one person.  
You meet Nathan’s gaze and see nothing but disapproval.  
He’s stood at the back, a fresh flute of champagne in his hand. He blinks when he realises you’ve seen him and he looks away. You go to stand, to go to him, but the God-King is walking over so you turn to him instead. You scuff your feet and glance up at him timidly, looking around as if you’ve just remembered you’re surrounded by an audience.  
The God-King looks down at you sternly and again there’s a moment of baited breath from the crowd. Then his face breaks into a wide, dazzling smile. 

“Delightful!” He exclaims, lifting his arms in approval and there’s a smattering of applause. “So much skill, so much mercy.” He catches you, lifts you onto his hip, turning so the everyone can get a good look at you. You smile and try to hide your head in his shoulder to the laughter of the crowd. You’re taking your cues from him, playing the Kid aspect to the hilt. You lean in and pretend to whisper in his ear.  
“Speak up.” The God-King urges you gently and you look around.  
“Did I? Did I do it right?” You ask in a small voice, but loud enough for the audience to hear. “Did I make you proud?”  
The God-King takes your chin in his hand and lifts your head to look at him.  
“You always make me proud.” He says to the sighs of the spectators. He walks over to the large man and takes his winnings. It’s a huge wad of cash. He lifts it laughing.  
“What would you like?” He asks you.  
“Uhm, a good bottle of champagne?” You ask, it’s the first thing that comes into your head. The God-King kisses your cheek.  
“As you wish.”  
He lets you back down on the ground and you stand there as the crowd surges around you, jostling and congratulating you. You see Nathan moving back onto the other side of the curtain. He’s not going anywhere, you can catch up with him in a minute.  
So you turn and smile and answer questions, while a few servants walk into the arena and drag Patrick’s slumbering body to the edge of the room, where he can sleep off your enchantment in safety. 

*

“Feeling proud of yourself, are we?” Nathan asks as you approach him. It’s taken well over twenty minutes to get away from the excited crowd. Your hair’s mussed from all the people ruffling it and you feel a little jostled and knocked about. You’re not a real fan of this new celebrity the God-King has given you and you’re longing for a bit of peace and quiet.  
“A little.” You admit, scuffing the marble floor with your boot. “Maybe not that much.”  
“Is he dead?”  
“What?” You look up shocked. “No! Just sleeping. I didn’t do anything bad to him.”  
“Just scared him half to death.”  
“He would have beaten me badly, given half the chance.” You grump at him but Nathan continues to look at you with disapproval. You look away and re-adjust you cloak. You’ve put it on in a hurry and the clips are a little out of line.  
“But he didn’t have half a chance, did he? Not even at the beginning.”  
“No.” You agree. “But then, that was the plan.”  
“The plan?”  
“The God-King was showing me off. Like he shows you off.” You look around the crowd, not really looking, but not wanting to focus on Nathan’s displeasure. You don’t want to argue with such a new friend. Not when you have so few to begin with. “It was just part of the bigger game. And now, no one will mess with me, I guess.”  
“I guess.”  
You look back at him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”  
“Who’s upset?” Nathan gives you a flute of champagne and you take it with a hesitant smile. “I just don’t like blood sport is all.” He sips at his own drink. “Especially at a wedding.”  
“It’s just play, no one’s going to get badly hurt tonight. The God-King forbade it.”  
“Huh.” Nathan sighs. “Well, so long as you’re all right and he’s not brain dead.”  
“He’s not. Just sleeping.”  
“Good.” Nathan nods. “Did you enjoy it?”  
“Yeah, I did. It’s the first time I’ve ever been in that situation and been in control.”  
“What situation?”  
“A fighting one.” You punch his arm playfully. “Don’t worry, anyone gives you crap, I got your back.”  
Nathan sighs and theatrically rolls his eyes.  
“I feel safer already.”  
“Good. Because in a minute there’s some good champagne coming.”  
“There is?”  
“Yup. My prize for a good fight.” You grin at him. “It’d be a shame you missed out because you were being a douche.”  
“Apologies, my liege.” And Nathan raises his glass. “I bow to your prowess in combat.”  
“Such a douche.” Your raise your glass and clink it with his.

“So…” He looks you up and down. “You can actually do magic, then?”  
“A bit.”  
“Can you make a double of yourself? Because then you could make a double of me and we could go home for the evening.”  
“No, unfortunately not.” You grin. “And even if I could it wouldn’t fool the God-King for a second.”  
“Rats!” he sighs. “Never mind.”  
“Not enjoying the party?”  
“No. I am. It’s just…” He shrugs. “I hate these public affairs. All the people looking at me and muttering. All the pretty women who assume I’m gay because of him.”  
“You’re not?”  
“Nope, Bi, through and through.” He pauses, thinking. “Though, given that I’m technically sleeping with an alien, I guess that makes me Pan as well…”  
You giggle.  
“All those labels. Just sleep with who you want. You think the God-King cares?”  
“So what magic can you do?”  
“Bits and pieces.” You consider. “Uhm, it’s complicated…?”  
“Anything you can show me? Right now?”  
“Uhm…” Your gaze alights on the nearest chandelier. The lightbulbs are shaped like candles, but they’re completely electric. “Can you get me up there, so I can unscrew one of the lightbulbs?”  
“Sure. Why not?”

People quickly make room for you as you walk over to the light fitting with purpose and Nathan crouches down so you can climb onto his shoulders. You reach up as he grips your calves for stability and grasp one of the lower bulbs. It takes a little work to get it to twist, but soon it’s coming away easily. You draw some charge from the mains and then gesture for Nathan to let you down again.  
People are muttering as you get back on the ground. You’re getting quite an audience. You look around and grin.  
“So… Magic…” You hand the bulb to Nathan. “Lift it above your head or something…”  
Nathan grins and promptly puts it in his mouth.  
“Okay, that could make this a little trickier, but… okay…” You reach out with your right palm. “Take my hand.”  
Nathan nods and takes it without question. His trust in you in amazing. 

You concentrate, feeling the charge inside of you and controlling it completely. You lock gazes with Nathan and you smile. Just as you did with Patrick, you bring out a tingling, harmless electrical static that shimmers brightly around both your hands. Nathan’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t move. You expand the field, letting it climb over both your right arms, up and over your shoulders, around your torsos. You call the light to change and flicker, making dancing patterns in the static. The people around you murmur with appreciation. You wait until the charge has climbed all the way up to his chin, then you grin, raise your sling arm theatrically and click your fingers.  
You focus the charge and the lightbulb turns on.  
Everyone starts to laugh and applaud.  
Nathan hesitantly takes the bulb out of his mouth and lifts it up. It’s still shining brightly.  
“This is so cool.” He smiles down at you.  
“Put it down on the table.”  
He does and it stays lit. You judge the right moment, the moment when the charge in the bulb is spent. Then you click your fingers again.  
The lightbulb goes out.  
And everyone just loses it. 

“Do me! Do me!”  
"Bless us, Holy One!"  
You’re surrounded by the crowd and you don’t know what to do. They’re pushing you around, reaching for the lightbulb, fighting for your attention. You get shoved to the floor and everything goes sideways…  
You’re on the ground, covered in blood that isn’t your own. You can hear people screaming, the chatter of gunfire all around you. You look up at the tank and see it retargeting for another shot…  
You reach out to protect yourself, you palm glowing with stored electricity.  
“Kid, no! Don’t!” Nathan’s voice cuts through your madness and you turn to him, struggling to get away from the scrum around you.  
“What the fuck is wrong with you people!?” Nathan manages to get his arms around you, trying to lift you up and out to safety and you cling to him, whimpering in fear. “They’re just a kid! It was just a trick! Now back the fuck away.”  
“But they can bless us! They have the blood of the God-King in their veins…” And people are still reaching for you and you’re panicking. They overpower Nathan by sheer numbers and get their hands on you again. 

As they pull you away you start screaming for them to stop, that you’ll hurt them if they don’t leave you alone. But in their frenzy, they aren’t listening. You turn, your palm glowing with power, working out which person to burn first, working out how to protect yourself…  
Working out how many you’re going to have to kill to escape with your life…  
Then you feel the sharp pain in your skull, his anger in your mind and you pull back, panicking and afraid…  
“Enough!” His voice cuts through the crowd like a knife.  
And everyone falls silent. The band stops playing.  
The God-King is stood by the curtain, radiating fury.  
The people let you go. They back away. Their madness gone, scattered by the rage of their God.  
They start to babble in fear, try to explain and he glares at them as you scrabble away.  
“Kneel.” He says, his voice a low, terrifying growl. He looks around the room. “All of you.”  
Slowly, hesitantly, everyone on the room gets on their knees.  
You get behind Nathan as he gets onto the floor with the rest. You grip his jacket and bury your head into his shoulder, shaking from reaction and adrenaline. 

The God-King stalks over. He bends and takes the lightbulb from the ground. In the crush it’s been trampled and broken. He looks up at the chandelier and sighs.  
“You had to damage my property?” He asks you.  
“It was the closest thing to hand…” You squeak out.  
“Are you hurt?”  
“No…”  
“Did you hurt anyone else?”  
“I don’t… I don’t think so….?”  
The God-King looks around at his trembling subjects. He reaches out his hand toward you.  
“Come here.”  
You have to be helped to your feet by Nathan. You’re shaking and nervous.  
“I’m sorry…”  
“Come here!”  
You stagger over to him, cringing from the hard look in his eyes, from the pressure he’s still exerting on your mind, keeping you from casting magic and promising pain if you resist him. He takes your palm, still glowing with power and lifts the fingers of his other hand, visibly draining the charge from you. The electricity jumping from your hand into his. He lifts his hand thoughtfully, the charge dancing across his skin.  
“It was just a game… Just a trick… I didn’t mean…” You stutter out.  
He reaches for the chandelier and the charge leaps into the fitting. The bulbs glow brightly for a moment and then go back to normal. The pressure on your mind begins to fade.  
“No more tricks tonight.” He tells you and you nod.  
“I promise.” 

The God-King glares around the room.  
“This child is mine.” He snarls, his voice full of threat. “You do not touch them without consent, you do not make demands of them. If one of you hurts this young thing, bruises their skin, harms a hair on their head…” He looks around the room. “I have searched far and wide for this little one. I will not have you offer such a poor welcome. I am ashamed of you.”  
People drop their heads, mutter apologies. A few lower themselves further to the ground, prostrating themselves to him.  
“Don’t hurt them.” You send out the thought to him. “Please.”  
He looks down at you, his expression still hard and unyielding.  
“My child cautions mercy.” He says aloud. His voice becomes thoughtful. “…And this is a day of celebration…”  
He’s strokes your hair, leans down and kisses you head. He sighs, looking around the room, his attitude softening, as if he sees his cowering subjects for the first time.  
“I forgive you. All of you.”  
There are actual sobs of relief among the throng of people on the ground. The God-King looks to the band.  
“Continue. Please.” He says, gesturing politely.  
The musicians have a quick, hurried discussion and then they start to play. It takes a minute to register they’re playing Hail to the Chief, then they break into something classical you recognise, but don’t know the name of. Laura gets to her feet and walks over to where the bride and groom are kneeling on the floor. She helps them get up and a feeling of relief floods the room. Slowly people begin to stand again, the noise of chatter rises as everyone begins to express their gratitude at once. The crowd who were jostling you all bow to the God-King and then hurry away.

“Fuck.” Nathan comes over. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I never thought…”  
The God-King takes him by the throat, cutting off his words.  
“You should have thought. You know what my subjects are like, how they worship the myth of this child.” His voice is a hiss of anger as his lifts Nathan onto his tiptoes. “How they would see even the simplest parlour trick…”  
“No.” You plead with him. “No. Don’t.”  
The God-King lets Nathan go with a gesture of distain. The man backs away, holding his throat and choking. You plant yourself between them and the God-King narrows his eyes.  
“Remember how well this went for you last time?” He asks and you shiver at the memory of the pain. Then you swallow hard and school your expression to one of calm contrition.  
“I do.” You step forward and take his hand, he looks down at you in surprise. “It was just a mistake. Just a stupid mistake. We were having fun and we misjudged the mood. We’re sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have freaked out like that.”  
You lock gazes with him and to your surprise he’s the first to look away.  
“Oh, Child…” The God-King sighs. He pulls his hand out of yours. He gestures and there’s a bottle of champagne on the table. He makes three glasses appear beside it, takes the neck, pops the cork and starts to pour. “…You are so very weak.”

He hands you a glass and then offers the second to Nathan. The man takes it, his manner completely submissive. It’s obvious he’s weathered one of the God-King’s tempers before. He clears his throat.  
“I’m sorry…” He starts but the God-King waves it away.  
“Oh, enough.” He lifts his glass. “Cheers.”  
“Cheers.” You both echo him and clink the flutes together. They chime and you realise they’re made of crystal. The colour of the drink is far deeper, too. You take an exploratory sip and raise your eyebrows.  
“This is amazing!” You exclaim and the God-King laughs.  
“Your prize.” He says, lifting his glass again. “As promised.”  
“I thought you didn’t keep promises.” You say and then bite your lip. This isn’t the time to goad him. But the God-King just laughs.  
“Well, aren’t you a lucky little thing.” He winks at you and you sigh in relief. He’s happy again. The storm has passed quickly.  
“I am.” You move up to him, pressing your head against his side as he hugs you close. “I realise it more every day.”  
“Flatterer.” The God-King ruffles your hair. He leans back against the table, relaxed and seemingly content. He sips his drink and watches the crowd moving from table to table. Everyone is giving you a wide berth. A long moment of companionable silence drifts over you. 

“Uh… Majesty…?” The God-King looks back over at Nathan, who’s keeping his distance. “Do you… uhm… want me tonight…? Or… Or have I offended you?”  
“Oh, really.” The God-King sighs. “Come here, Nathan. I’m not going to hurt you.”  
The man nods, still rubbing his neck in an unconscious gesture. The God-King catches his hand, pushing it down gently.  
“The scrapes you get yourself in.” He chides him. Nathan looks away. The God-King catches his chin, making him meet his gaze. “I know you didn’t mean it. I should not have let my anger hold sway.”  
Nathan nods and swallows.  
The God-King pushes you out of the way so he can draw Nathan to his side. The man presses his head against the God-King’s shoulder.  
“I’m sorry.” He whispers and the God-King nods.  
“I know. I forgive you.” He kisses his forehead.  
“Thank you.”  
“Drink your champagne. It’s one of my best vintages.”  
And then there are three of you, sipping and watching the party. Calm and silent and content.

The band strikes up the Wedding March and the bride and groom make their way to the centre of the floor for the first dance of the night. They look over at the God-King and he smiles and raises his glass.  
“Don’t let me stop you.” He says to laughter. “Go on, start the festivities properly.”  
They turn and hold each other like ballroom dancers, their bound hands out to the side, their other arm curling about the waist of their partner. The band starts to play Unchained Melody and the couple start to sway. Moving in a slow circle around the dance floor. They look into each other’s eyes, their love for each other evident. It’s really beautiful.  
You watch for a minute and then start to look around the room. Everyone else is watching the dancing. Everyone but Laura. She’s staring away from the dancers, up to your table, her eyes on the God-King. The longing on her face is heart-breaking. The God-King shifts, feeling her gaze on him and she quickly looks away before he sees her. She glances at you, realises you’ve seen and gives you a sad little smile. You return in with a nod. She’s so doomed.  
You turn and see Nathan watching you as well. He glances at Laura, shakes his head and reaches for the champagne.  
“Refill, Majesty?” He asks and the God-King offers his glass. He doesn’t take his eyes off the dancers. He waits for the glass to be filled and then take another sip.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The love people can have for one another.” He says thoughtfully.  
“It is.” You agree. “It must be nice to be able to trust someone so much.”  
“I had a wife, once.” The God-King says, pointedly ignoring your gibe. “We had two handsome and strong boys.”  
You look up at him in surprise.  
“What happened?” You ask.  
“It was a young love. She wasn’t considered the right catch. Not for a Prince of the Realm. Father paid her off and we divorced.”  
“Sounds cold.”  
“It was for the good of Asgard.” The God-King shrugs. “And we must always be mindful of our duties.” He looks at you. “To our duties to any Realm.”  
You don’t know why you look down and lower your head to him. It’s the way he says it, the weight behind his words. The way it’s levelled at you, as if he is describing a duty you have to perform. It frightens and humbles you all at the same time. Nathan fills your glass and breaks the moment.  
“May Midgard prosper.” He says tactfully and the God-King smiles.  
“Indeed it shall.” He says, with a hint of sarcasm. “Indeed it shall.”  
The bride and groom finish dancing and other couples join them for the next song.

“Do you want to dance, Majesty?” Nathan asks, offering his arm. The God-King smiles. He catches Nathan neatly, pushing him against the table. Nathan staggers, then straightens, giving a sharp inhalation as the God-King nips one of his earlobes. He strokes the man’s shirt, his hands playing with Nathan’s lapels as his mouth seeks his neck. Nathan whimpers, closing his eyes with desire as the God-King kisses his bruises and undoes a single shirt button to slide his hand across Nathan’s bare chest.  
“You want me here?” The man asks breathlessly. He sounds more than willing.  
“I don’t want you at all.” The God-King pulls away, grinning. “I’ve got myself three bridesmaids for tonight.  
“You are such… A… Fucking… Tease…” Nathan growls out and the God-King laughs. Their eyes meet and the emotions there… There’s so much love, so much desire, so much frustration and forgiveness. Their relationship is the height of complicated. But there’s something more there, something deeper, something you could never understand. Then the God-King leans forward and kisses him and Nathan melts back into his arms.  
“Fuck. Why do I love you so much…?” Nathan groans. “After everything you do to me…?”  
“Because love’s a fickle bitch.” The God-King leans back smiling. “And so am I.”  
He presses the bottle of champagne into Nathan’s hands. Then he gestures, retrieves a second one from wherever his keeps his favourite items and hands it to you. 

“Neither of you want to be here. And if my subjects attacked my child while sober, who knows what they’ll do when drunk. Go. Find somewhere quiet to celebrate and settle down. Just make sure that when you’re done, my child is tucked in for the night.”  
“But, there’s dancing…” You protest feebly. You don’t want to be sent to bed, it feels far too much like a punishment.  
“They’ll be dancing another night.” The God-King says sternly and you sigh. He strokes your hair. “I’m not angry, I’m not sending you to bed without any supper. I am worried for your safety.”  
“I know…” You sigh again.  
“Grab a couple of servants. Pile a tray of your favourite food high and take it with you.” He crouches down next to you. “I love you, little one. I am proud of you. I give my word that there will be more dances.”  
You hug him tightly. He hugs you back and then gently disengages you.  
“Go on. Be good. Behave.” He stands wagging a finger. “Both of you.”  
“Come on, kid. We can have a better party on our own.” Nathan pushes off the table and walks away. He grabs the nearest waiter, gives a few orders and they nod and hurry away. Then he turns and offers his hand. You glance at the God-King, give him a small, tight smile of farewell before running to Nathan’s side.  
“We don’t need him anyway.” Nathan says, though he sounds hurt. “We’ll find something better to do.”  
As you wait for the elevator to chime you see the God-King stepping onto the dancefloor. Everybody welcomes him with a cheer and three of the bridesmaids move away from their partners to join him instead. He wasn’t lying about his evening’s entertainment.  


You just hope you don’t have to sleep by the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've only just started watching Agents of Shield and I couldn't resist bringing in the Berserker Staff. I don't know if I'll be adding anything else - it depends what this TAHITI thing is (yes I have really only just started watching it, I know shame on me... Haven't seen Agent Carter yet either...)  
> If it pans out to be interesting, then it might get added, it might not.
> 
> But the Berserker Staff was just too cool and a good way to talk Loki round into letting me sort out the next part of the plot :P  
> Even I have to appease the tricksey bugger sometimes...


	45. The Complex Life of the God-King’s Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You love him, don’t you.” You say and it isn’t a question.  
> “For my sins.” Nathan helps himself to some of the smoked salmon sandwiches and starts to eat.  
> “How’d that happen?”  
> “You love him too, don’t you?”  
> “I guess.” You shrug. “But not like that.”  
> Nathan nods, thinks for a moment and then starts to speak.  
> “When he smiles at you. Really smiles at you, happy and free and filled with joy…” Nathan reaches for a slice of lemon and squeezes it over the fish. “You just melt. I don’t think we have any defence against it, as a species. You want to do anything to see him smile like that again…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening everyone. Time for your update.
> 
> I may go off the grid for a while after this one. I don't want to go into detail, but the curse of "May You Live in Interesting Times" has well and truly come home to roost in my backyard.
> 
> Another restful chapter, with plot and development, but nothing bad. No triggers needed.  
> Though, as always, beware the feels.

*

Nathan leans against the wall of the elevator, lifting his head until the back touches the mirrored glass, breathing heavily and deeply. You stand looking at him, buttons unpushed, still on the throne room’s floor, but alone in the space. The doors have already closed automatically.  
“Are you okay?” You ask gently and Nathan doesn’t move, he continues to look at the ceiling.  
“Sure.” The word is a deep, heavy sigh. He lowers his head again, looking down at the half full champagne bottle.  
“Which floor?” You prompt and he looks at you.  
“Eightieth.” His voice sounds tired.  
You nod and press the button. It takes moments for the elevator to jump one floor, but again as the elevator pings, Nathan doesn’t move. The doors close again and he’s still there against the wall, sullen, almost lost.  
You step forward and take his hand.

“Hey.” You smile up at him. “He’s mean to all of us.”  
“Yeah.” Nathan nods, visibly pulling himself together. “I just hate it when he humiliates me in public.” His hand runs over the bruises under his collar. “When he just takes all my power away, so fucking easily.” He looks down at you, a soft smile on his lips. “Thanks for standing up for me.”  
“No problem.”  
“I’ve never seen someone stand up to him like that.” Nathan’s voice becomes thoughtful. “Not and get away with it.”  
“I’ll probably pay later.” You shrug. “Or maybe not. He was in a good mood tonight.”  
“Yeah.”  
“Come on. Let’s eat and you can tell me about everything that’s happened while I’ve been away.”  
“It’s a long list.” Nathan says as you press the button to open the doors and lead him out onto the carpeted corridor.  
“So prioritise. I’ll pick up the rest as I go.” 

The servants must have a private way up because they’re already in the kitchen, getting plates ready for the large amount of food they’ve brought up on trays. They’ll all in the waiter outfits, straight up from the throne room and they glance at you nervously as they finish their work. Nathan ignores them and goes to the large windowed wall, to look out on the city. He fills his champagne flute again and proffers the bottle as you walk over. You let him fill your glass and sip at the liquid. It’s so much better than the stuff downstairs, the taste is as deep as the colour. You wonder how much more alcohol content it has compared to the weaker, cheaper vintage. You’re not feeling drunk in the slightest.  
“First change since you left.” Nathan gestures and you look out on the dark night of the city. It’s beautiful, filled with bright twinkling lights and most of the buildings are at least six stories tall with construction scaffolds dotted here and there. “Last time you were here, most of it was still rubble and without electricity.”  
“Mostly burning fires.” You agree. “And the purple, blue lights of the Chitauri.”

You both look up at the void. It hasn’t got much bigger since you were gone and it’s as dark as the night sky around it. You can only really make it out because of the hazy white, grey swirl around its edge. You can see stars on the other side. You’ve never noticed that before, but then, you’ve never been able to look at it for this long before, either. It doesn’t give you that same vertigo as it used to, you can see it clearly now. There are several motherships sitting beyond the event horizon of the hole and there are two in the New York air space. But there are no smaller lights zipping around. The Chitauri are no longer policing the city. Nathan looks away much earlier than you do, his face showing that it turns his stomach a little. You don’t feel the vertigo anymore, but he certainly does. 

“I designed the electric lights.” He continues after a short pause and half a glass of the champagne. “And the turbines under the city. They’re fuelled by waste, the people flush their toilets and the water pushes the limbs of small windmills, creating electricity a trickle at a time. It’s only energy reclamation, of course, it doesn’t work for everything. But it helps keep the overheads down and we supplement the rest through solar panels and a few turbines around the island.” He glances at Stark Tower and makes a face. “We can’t tap into that, into Stark’s Arc Reactor tech. The damn artificial intelligence isn’t playing ball, it lets us wander around the basement and the first few floors so we can scavenge the electrical parts we need, but it won’t let us anywhere near the Tower’s power source. And, though I hear the Tesseract is unlimited energy, we don’t get to see even a watt of its power. It’s all put into the war effort, the force-field around the city and the portal to outer space.”

“What do you do for entertainment?” You ask. “The God-King has to give you all downtime, right?”  
“There are televisions, but they’re communal and we only watch DVDs. Luckily there are plenty to go around, no new series, but…” Nathan sighs. “There aren’t any signals, not digital or analogue, nothing gets beyond the barrier, either in or out. There’s radio, if you want to listen to the propaganda and there’s a broadsheet that advertises and tells people about events in their area. But no satellite signal, so no phones and no internet either.” He takes another mouthful of champagne, frowning as he thinks. “There are some techies trying to work out an internal system, but most of the servers were fried when the Tesseract expanded. And we’re not sure, but there’s a general consensus by people in the know that the thing seems to like Ethernet cables and fibre optics. They say it eats the bandwidth as quickly as they can make it, but how or why, we don’t know.”

“I could try and find out. I could ask it, it might tell me why.” You say, wanting to make yourself useful. You want to help Nathan and the community. Though you feel very distant from them right now, they’re your people, you grew up down there. You should try.  
“Ask it?” Nathan frowns at you.  
“Sure, the Tesseract is sentient. Not our kind of sentient, it’s alien, but you can reason with it.” You say and Nathan goes quiet for a moment, just digesting your words.  
“It’s not really a priority right now.” He says eventually. “And I’m guessing the Prince will want you working on other things. But thanks for the offer, even if that is slightly terrifying.”  
You look up at him and smile.  
“This a bad time to tell you that I’ve carried a small piece of the Tesseract inside me?”  
“Yup.”  
“Thought as much.” 

Nathan goes quiet again. He finishes his glass, pours another one and tops up your drink with the last of the bottle. By now the servants have disappeared and Nathan walks you to the table and you both sit down to eat.  
“You know… they say you’re Asgardian.”  
“Who does?”  
“The tales that surround you.” Nathan looks you up and down. “Though I always had my doubts.”  
“What do the tales say?”  
“That you’re his, the Prince’s offspring from an illicit tryst. That he sent you to Midgard to protect you from discovery and a mortal couple raised you in the shadow of Stark Tower.”  
“Sounds good.” You grin. “Kinda romantic.”  
“That you survived the battle because of your Asgardian constitution and he reclaimed you in the rubble. That you’re a natural mage, like him, much to his joy and pride. That when you come of age you will rule by his side.” 

“You know how long that would be?” You ask, spooning a bit of caviar onto your plate along with some very small, crispy pieces of toast.  
“No.”  
“In about seven hundred years time.” You smile as you bite into the appetiser. “Asgardians live to be around five thousand.”  
“Oh.” Nathan lets that sink in. “Wow.”  
“Yeah. So, no, I’m not Asgardian, I’m not his biologically. I’m human, or at least I was. Now, I don’t know, though.”  
“Why not?”  
“Uhm. I don’t know if I can tell you. But I was mortal, totally human with a mum and dad and everything. And the magic’s natural. I was born with it – some mortals are.” You pause thinking. “But the God-King needed a child, so he took me because he ran into me first. He didn’t know about my abilities. Hell, even I didn’t know about them. He awakened them in me.”  
“Was it painful?” Nathan’s looks at you with concern.  
“It was. But it didn’t have to be.” You shrug. “He’s far too full on sometimes.”  
“Yeah.” Nathan agrees, sighing. “Yeah.” 

“You love him, don’t you.” You say and it isn’t a question.  
“For my sins.” Nathan helps himself to some of the smoked salmon sandwiches and starts to eat.  
“How’d that happen?”  
“You love him too, don’t you?”  
“I guess.” You shrug. “But not like that.”  
Nathan nods, thinks for a moment and then starts to speak.  
“When he smiles at you. Really smiles at you, happy and free and filled with joy…” Nathan reaches for a slice of lemon and squeezes it over the fish. “You just melt. I don’t think we have any defence against it, as a species. You want to do anything to see him smile like that again…”  
“Bull.” But you grin at the idea. “There’s way more to it than that.”  
“But that’s how it starts. The first time he’s kind to you for no reason, the first time he shows mercy and you’re so grateful, so fucking grateful, that he can reach in and pluck out your heart.”  
“Flowery.”  
“Yeah.” Nathan snorts in amusement. “I’ve had a long time to think about it.”

“Would you leave?” You ask, sipping at your champagne and then looking over the rest of the tasty offerings. “If you could?”  
“No.” There isn’t any hesitation in his answer. He pauses, looks at the part-eaten sandwich in his hand. “God, that sounds pathetic, doesn’t it?”  
“Why not?” You find more of those voulevants you liked so much and help yourself to all of them. Nathan watches you take them with a sad look in his eye, so you pile a few onto his plate as well. He smiles in gratitude.  
“Because I’m needed. You saw him kicking me around, but he isn’t like that with me in private. Not anymore. We have a full relationship. He needs someone who won’t judge him, who will give him the love he needs and I need…” He shrugs, sighing. “I need him. And the work that he provides me. I’ve never been in charge of such a big project and it drives me, it’s thrilling and difficult and… just great. That anyone would put that level of trust in me. And he’s so fiercely intelligent, he stretches me all the time, challenges me and I like that. I like having a partner that’s so committed to a cause.”

“To the enslavement of mankind?” You ask lightly, teasing him, but feeling your way as well. You need to know which side of the fence Nathan sits on, whether it is really love that he feels or a blind devotion.  
“Fuck that. He isn’t for that at all. You think I don’t see the strings that bind him? I’ve seen him free and I’ve seen him chained and he’s two different people.” Nathan bites one of the voulevants in half in a single savage motion. “That’s why I don’t judge him. I don’t know his plan and he’s a massive asshole sometimes, but… But…” He shakes his head.  
“He has his reasons?”  
“Sure.”  
“Like when he terrorised you into sex?”  
“Kid…” And Nathan’s furious at you, but keeping it under wraps. Keeping it civil.  
“Sorry.” You frown. “That was uncalled for. I just, I need to know how you tick. I’m sorry, I’m just… It’s the way I was taught to survive…”  
“By pissing off one of your few allies in this shitstorm?”  
“By knowing your loyalties, by judging your reactions.” You reach for the second bottle of champagne and give it to him. “But I went too far. Sorry.”

“Just be glad that I’m scared of you, too.” Nathan says, unwrapping the foil around the neck of the bottle and turning the wire slowly.  
“Scared?”  
“Scared.” Nathan says firmly. “Enough not to want to annoy you.”  
“What the fuck’s so scary about me?” You ask, lifting your skinny arms and showing off your sling to highlight your disbelief.  
“Just about everything. I saw how you took Patrick apart. The thing with the light bulb – it was fun and all, but don’t tell me you can’t use that to seriously maim people. The fact that you seem to be unafraid of the big blue sphere that’s keeping us all penned in and subservient. The thing that made the aliens come to our world in the first place and then trapped us here, to deal with the fall-out.” 

The cork flies off with a loud pop and bounces off the ceiling. Nathan moves the bottle expertly to catch the froth in his glass before it hits the table.  
“The fact that, when the crowd went all religious, you were ready to kill a few of them to get away.” He looks at you. “Don’t deny it.”  
“I won’t.” You offer your glass for a refill. “But, to be fair, I wasn’t all there. I was suffering from a flashback to a warzone.”  
“PTSD?”  
“Probably. I’ve never had it before, so I don’t know.”  
“What did you see?”  
“The time HYDRA tried to kill me with a tank.”  
“Tried?”  
“And failed.”  
“And you wonder why I’m scared of you.” Nathan laughs under his breath. “Jesus.”  
“Like I said, the God-King has done something to me.” You sip at the champagne and you glance across the room. “It’s why I wonder if I’m human anymore.” 

“Of course you’re human.” You both turn at the new voice and you give a little cry of delight.  
“Mr Selvig!” You’re up and out of your seat and in his arms without knowing how you covered the distance. He catches you, hugging you close. You press your sling tightly against his stomach and bury your head in his plaid shirt.  
“Of course you’re human.” He repeats in welcome. “Just changed and scarred by your time dealing with a difficult and capricious God. As am I. As is Mr Drake here. You are different from others, your experiences alone single you out. But you are human. Never doubt it.”  
“Thank you.” You murmur, still breathing in the plaid, it’s a comforting smell.  
“Coming down for your evening ritual of rifling through the cupboards?” Nathan asks and Selvig laughs.  
“Am I becoming so predictable?” He lifts you up and away from his side, smiling as you give a little grumble and puts his arm around you as you both walk forward.  
“The Prince says no more waffles. You need to lose some weight.”  
“Nonsense.” Selvig laughs again. “I need to keep my fat, for the winter.”  
“You know, we have such a thing as central heating…”  
“As do I.” Selvig slaps his belly happily. “It just uses less energy.” 

Selvig starts looking through the food on the table.  
“Anything I can scrounge?” He asks.  
“Anything you like, Mr Selvig.” You say happily and Nathan rolls his eyes.  
“You do realise he eats like an Asgardian, right? We won’t have anything left by the time he’s through.”  
“Not all of us want a chiselled jaw and stomach abs Nathan.” Selvig smiles. “Not all of us just survive here on our looks.”  
“Fuck you, Slevig.” But Nathan’s voice is filled with humour. “Become a whale, see if I care.”  
“Its’s always good to have life goals.” Selvig agrees amicably. “Why aren’t you two at the wedding?”  
“The God-King kicked us out.” You make a face. “Because people are dumb.”  
“Religious mania.” Nathan supplies at Selvig’s uncertain frown. “The Kid pulled a parlour trick and a dozen or so people lost their minds.”

“I see.” Selvig nods thoughtfully. “So you still call him the God-King?”  
“What else is there to call him?” You ask uncertainly.  
“He tolerates Prince around those he trusts.” Selvig tells you and you look at him, biting your lip at the thought of it.  
“Laura started calling him that and it’s kinda stuck.” Nathan adds with a nod. “But you have to earn it and only when we’re in private.”  
“I haven’t earned it.” You say, reaching for your plate and your champagne. You offer some to Selvig. “You want some? It’s good.”  
“No, but thank you. Too many bubbles.” Selvig smiles and you nod. “I’ll get myself a soda, don’t you worry.”  
“Okay.” It’s nice he doesn’t even make an issue about the alcohol, doesn’t even look at you funny.  
Mr Selvig is alright.

“So how’s the project going?” Nathan asks once you’re all settled and eating. Mr Selvig has piled his plate high and is eating quickly. He notices you staring and he grins.  
“I eat once every other day at the minute. I forget, the project takes all my time. So when I do remember to eat...” He lifts his fork, laden with salmon and vegetables. “…I stock up.” He turns to Nathan. “And it’s been going slowly, since…” He glances at you, winces. “But it’s picking up again.”  
“Since what?” You demand, but neither of them make eye contact. “Since Mr Stark died, right?”  
Selvig looks at Nathan, but the other man still won’t make eye contact.  
“I know.” You continue sharply. “I was there. I saw it on the screen. On the satellite uplink.”  
“We’re not allowed to talk about it.” Nathan says, exhaling loudly as he speaks.  
“Why not?” You look from one to the other.  
“The Prince has forbidden it.” Selvig says.  
“Why?” You snap, combative, you don’t need to be sheltered.  
“We don’t know why.” Selvig says in such a calm voice that you feel your anger subsiding a little. “He just did, that’s all.”  
“He doesn’t always explain himself, but when he uses *that* tone of voice when he’s giving the orders, we know what’s expected. Don’t argue.” Nathan shrugs. “We’re not hiding it. We’re just not allowed to talk about it.”  
“I don’t understand…”  
Slevig snorts.  
“Join the club.” He says.  
You look between the two of them, but neither says anything else.

“Fine.” You say eventually. “So what’s the project?”  
“The Chitauri don’t speak any human languages and we can’t speak theirs.” Mr Selvig says, still eating rapidly. “One to one their vocalisations carry so much information in a single strand we can’t process it all… And they find our language slow and unwieldy, they don’t do well in metaphor, or in cultural references and that’s pretty much what English is all about. The Chitauri are also a hive mind, they… they communicate over distance through transmissions that arrive directly in the cerebral cortex. A delivery system that kills humans dead.”  
“Stone dead.” Nathan pitches in.  
“Okay…?”

“The project is trying to make a computerised system that can intercept these distance messages and show them onscreen so that the human component of the Prince’s army can co-ordinate their efforts. Then type in their answer and have it transmitted back to the Chitauri.”  
“Tony Stark already made hand-held devices, that we can use to communicate one on one.” Nathan gestures to his throat. “You put them against your vocal chords and, well, instant Chitauri.”  
“And they can do the same when they want to speak human.” Selvig cuts in.  
“So Mr Stark cracked their language, then?” You say nodding. “I was there when he was doing that.”  
“Yes. For the vocalisations, but the transmissions are harder. Because of the way the transmissions touch and interact with the hive mind, if we get the frequency wrong we can kill Chitauri as easily as they kill humans. If we mess it up, we might harm one of their ships, or kill some of their warriors and we can’t risk that, not in the slightest.”  
“The Chitauri do not have a sense of humour.” Nathan says drily. “They take offense at nearly everything.”  
“So killing them, even by accident, would be bad?” You venture and Nathan snorts in amusement.  
“They would retaliate.” Selvig confirms with a sigh. “If we’re lucky it would just be a one to one death ratio.”  
“If we’re unlucky, they’ll cream an entire platoon and harvest the organs into a mothership.” Nathan skewers some of the asparagus in an expensive sauce and eats it with a sharp crunch. For some reason it makes you shiver away. Nathan is very physically expressive and the way he just ate the vegetable made you think of spines getting chewed up, for some reason. Or maybe bones… Still… not good.  
“So, yes, it is going slowly.” Selvig affirms with a sigh.  
“Does SHIELD know?” You ask slowly. “About the hive mind stuff?”  
“Of course they don’t.” Nathan says heatedly. “If they did, it would hinder the war effort.”  
You glance at Mr Selvig, who’s gone strangely quiet.  
“They would have to understand the Chitauri language for it to work.” Selvig says eventually. “So even if they do figure out a system, they’d have to start from scratch, like we did…”

The God-King has stuff he needs SHIELD to know. How easy would it be to accidently slip a few pertinent pointers about the Chitauri mindset in the reams and reams of paper that’s downstairs on all those trolleys? Or to not check Mr Selvig movements? To let him walk around unhindered, even into your own private apartments for food? To deliberately get familiar with a small group of humans, the ones you entrust with all the technical and sensitive information, the ones you don’t watch quite closely enough? To let them call you Prince and show you respect, but not the level of religious deference you expect from the normal population?  
How easy would it be to claim ignorance when small snippets of sensitive information reach your enemies? To cover your back when your master comes knocking?  
Something stinks here and it isn’t the salmon sandwiches.

“So I heard you were with SHIELD. That they saved you from HYDRA and took you in for a while.” Selvig says, clearing his throat as he changes the conversation. “Did you see Thor at all, or Jane?”  
“I saw both.” You lean forward conspiratorially. “And the All-Father, King Odin himself. When I went to Asgard…”  
Mr Selvig’s mouth drops open.  
“What was it like? What was he like?” He asks, eagerly. “I’ve always wondered…”  
You spend the rest of the meal explaining the journey with the Tesseract, describing Asgard and even throwing in a description of Heimdall and Queen Frigga. Mr Selvig listens, absolutely enthralled. Nathan doesn’t say anything, but he watches you with a mixture of surprise and respect as you flesh out the details of the story. 

*

“Come on, Kid. Don’t hold out on us.” Nathan voice is eager.  
“But we’ll get in trouble.” You say, uncertainly.  
“But it’s trouble worth having.” Selvig says so playfully that you glance at him with a suspicious smile on your face.  
“And it won’t be deep trouble. More the ‘roll your eyes and sigh’ kind of trouble. That kind of trouble is fun, so he’s bound to forgive us.” Nathan continues.  
“But he told me, no more tricks.”  
“This isn’t a trick. This is serious magic.” Selvig says with a strange, comical gravitas. “This is sensitivity practice. You’re not lighting a lightbulb in Nathan’s mouth, you’re hunting down magical signatures and finding hidden secrets.”  
“He might even be impressed. I mean you’ve never done this before, right?” Nathan asks.  
“No.” You shake your head. “Never.”  
“Well then, he’ll be so surprised there’s no way he could even think of being angry.” Nathan cuffs your shoulder. “Come one, Kid. Help your friends out.” 

You’re in the main lounge, everything’s been eaten and the champagne is gone. But the night isn’t over, even if it is threatening to be dry. You give Nathan and Selvig one last helpless look and then you give in. Nathan’s finally cheering up and Selvig – well, you would do anything for him. So you take a deep breath and you concentrate. You raise your arms out to your sides as you start to walk forward with slow, even steps. It doesn’t take long to pick up the scent. The entire room smells of him, magically speaking, his illusions and doubles have walked every square inch and the God-King’s presence is palpable. But there is a difference to the old signatures and the new, active magics around the room. You can feel his wards pulsing with life along the walls and spider-webbed through the windows. You can feel the new spell he’s creating in his bedroom, as red and silver and living as the last, but not yet complete. Like a circulatory system, hung out and splayed, ready to be given bones and flesh. It’s not thinking yet, alive, but not aware. You leave it be and move your consciousness back into the room. Back to the tips of your fingers.

There. You move towards one of the many new bookcases, filled with human history and fiction from all around the world. This bookcase is mostly Eastern European, the titles in languages you don’t understand, but can recognise as coming from that part of the world. You guess the power of All-Speak must extend to the written word as well. You wonder if he’ll ever teach it you. Being able to understand everyone in the world must be so cool…

Concentrate. The magic here isn’t sentient, isn’t built for thinking, isn’t even part of the ward structure. This spell is isolated, alone, shimmering. A better class of illusion. You crouch down to the second shelf of the bookcase and reach forward. There are three books that shiver as you make contact. The spines even feel real, dry and leathery and old. They smell of yellowed paper and ancient glue. But they aren’t real. Not even slightly. You add a bit more pressure and the illusion shimmers as your fingers push through, the gold lattice that holds the magic in place becomes visible to the naked eye and Nathan gives a little cry of success behind you.  
“I knew you could do it.” He says as your fingers close around the neck of what feels like a glass bottle. You pull it free and lift it for them to see.  
“Cherry brandy.” Selvig says in appreciation. “And it’s got a good age on it, too.”  
“And so the party continues!” Nathan slaps you on the shoulder as he takes the bottle, lifting it to the light. “You did good, Kid.” 

And you tense, waiting for the God-King to feel the change to his illusion, to feel you meddling in his affairs. But it doesn’t come. This spell isn’t tied to his wards, it’s a simple thing, held in isolation. When you pull your hand back it resets and the books are back in their slots, like they had never been disturbed. Like they are truly real. As Selvig heads back into the kitchen for glasses, you feel the smile spreading across your lips. Let the mischief begin. 

*

It’s hours later and you’re walking with a little waver in your step. Straight lines are beyond your grasp, but straight lines are for boring people. You found another bottle in that hidey hole and between the three of you, polished off the lot. Selvig is singing happily in the corner, Nathan is following you out of the lounge. The music is still playing because none of you can work out how to turn it off and you’re so drunk you’re scared you’ll fry it if you used your palm. Selvig dances like a proper dad, all slow and side-stepping and embarrassing. But he doesn’t care and his joy and lack of inhibition made you laugh for most of the night. Nathan dances like a legend! He knows all the moves and the drunker he became the more poised he seemed to be. Like the alcohol helped his balance, rather than taking it away. He taught you several moves, but before long your legs weren’t playing ball and you ended up holding hands with Mr Selvig, dancing side to side while Nathan did his thing.

You’ve never been so happy. You’re humming to yourself and just taking direction from Nathan as you enter the corridor. You don’t want to sleep outside the God-King’s bedroom, you don’t want to be there when he gets back at all. So you let Nathan take the lead with a dopey, tired, happy grin on your face.  
“Here we go.” Nathan pulls a set of keys from his pocket and finds one drunkenly. He gets it in the keyhole on the third attempt. “My casa es su casa.”  
“I don’t think that’s an accurate translation.” You say as he pushes open the door.  
“Who cares. You want to snuggle and watch movies?” Nathan stands by the door frame and gestures your forward.  
You head for the door and you stop as soon as you can see in. This isn’t an apartment, it’s just a bedroom.  
“So, where would we snuggle?” You ask uncertainly.  
“On the bed… Hey!” Nathan’s shouts in surprise as you sweep him. Even half-drunk the movements come naturally. Natasha has drilled you over and over again, you could take Nathan down in your sleep. 

You climb on top of him as he tries to rapidly crawl backward and you pull a knife. You press it to his throat, the edge right across his larynx, just under his collar and Nathan goes very still.  
“No.” You say, your voice firm. “Not ever.”  
“What did I say? What did I do wrong?” Nathan’s voice is very small. He sounds extremely afraid.  
“Is this a sex thing?” You demand.  
“What?” Nathan’s eyes go wide. “No! No! Shit no! I’m a one Asgardian kind of guy…”  
“But snuggling on the bed?”  
“You see a couch in there!?” Nathan says. “There are DVDs, there’s a TV. We can watch lying on the bed. We could hug because, uh, you seem to want the comfort? No inappropriate touching, no undressing. I promise. Shit, Kid, you’re fifteen!”

You pull back and Nathan sits up, rubbing his throat.  
“You really are like him sometimes. I almost pissed myself.” He grumbles as you crouch on his lap. “A fucking little Asgardian trained ninja. That’s what you are.”  
“SHIELD trained.”  
“Huh?”  
“Natasha Romanov taught me.”  
“Who?”  
“Black Widow.” You say and Nathan stiffens.  
“Great. Actually assassin trained. Maybe I don’t want you in my room…”  
You nod. You stand and offer your hand.  
“I just had to make sure. I don’t… Uhm… I just don’t is all?” You say and Nathan gives you a tired look. He takes your hand and lets you help him up.

“You’re an Ace?” He asks.  
“A what?”  
“Asexual. You don’t like the act and even the idea of sex puts you off. You don’t have any erotic thoughts or feelings…” Nathan supplies, trailing off to see what you have to say and you think about it.  
“Should I have?” You ask, frowning.  
“You’re going through puberty.” Nathan says, his tone dry. “Libido is a natural consequence. Man or woman.”  
“I don’t.” You shake your head. “Nope, don’t feel that at all.”  
“Being Ace is just as natural.” Nathan smiles at you. “Just not as common.”  
“Then maybe I am.” You agree and Nathan offers his hand.  
“You need an older brother?” He asks and you swallow at the sudden surge of emotion.  
“I’d like one…?” You say uncertainly.  
“And an older brother looks after their younger sibling.” Nathan gives a firm nod. “And sometimes they hug them while watching DVDs in bed.”  
“Okay.” You nod. “I’d like that.”  
“Come on, let’s get you comfy.”  
“Could you, uhm, call me that?”  
“Call you what?”  
“Ace. I kinda like it…”  
“Sure, kid. Whatever you want.” Nathan looks down at you as he leads you forward. “Ace… it suits you.”

He lets you go as you enter the room and you run over to the large 65” screen on the wall.  
“Oh. Wow…”  
“It has a DVD player on the side.” Nathan tells you. “And they’re in the cupboard over there. Choose what you want.”  
You go over, full of happy enthusiasm and come back with two. Nathan frowns.  
“Tomb Raider?”  
“They’re goofy, but I like them. And I haven’t seen the second one.”  
“Sure.” Nathan nods. “You want to watch both?”  
“Can we?”  
“Whatever you want, Ace. You get to be in charge tonight.”  
“Can we have popcorn?”  
“Unfortunately not.” Nathan shakes his head. “But I have treacle toffee. A woman in Pen 8 makes it. I’ve got a couple of bags.” He goes to his dresser and opens the drawer. “Here.”  
He throws it to you, underarm and you catch the striped paper bag and look inside.  
“All for you, Ace. I’ve got one for myself.” Nathan says and you grin almost from ear to ear.  
“I’ve not had toffee in… In forever!” You tell him happily.

Nathan puts the first DVD in the TV slot and then saunters over to the bed. He plumps the pillows for sitting up and kicks off his shoes. He gets on the right-hand side and then opens his arm, offering you a hug. You rush over and climb beside him. Nathan tuts and makes you take off your shoes. He makes you hang your knives out of the way on the bed post. Then he pulls the remote from the side of the mattress and you settle down next to him.  
“Okay, let’ watch Angelina Jolie pout while she fights killer robots.”  
“Sounds good to me.” You press you head against his side and pop the first piece of toffee into your mouth. Nathan puts his arm around you and presses play.  
You snuggle in harder, until your head is against his armpit and you can’t smell anything except his expensive cologne and the warm cotton of his well-tailored shirt.  
“You really want to be my brother?”  
“I really want to be your brother.”  
“I love you, Nathan.” You give a small sigh.  
“Easy now, Ace, easy.” But he laughs happily. “Don’t give those words away freely.”  
“I don’t. I mean it.” And you do. It surprises you, but you do.  
“Then I promise not to abuse it.” Nathan strokes your arm.  
“I know.” And you do. You can feel it. You’re happy and you’re safe and you’re free. Nathan won’t ever hurt you. You don’t know how you know, but you do. You feel like you’ve known him forever.

You’re half way through the first movie when the lift pings and you hear the God-King enter the hallway. It sounds like he has way more than just three women in tow. Nathan pauses the film when he sees you lose interest, glancing nervously at the door.  
“It’s all right.” Nathan says reassuringly. “He won’t come in here.”  
“You’re sure?” You ask.  
“I’m sure.” Nathan winks. “I locked the door. And he’ll be too drunk and disinterested to cast the magic to open it.”  
“You know him well, huh?”  
“Well enough.” Nathan nods.  
The handle is tested several times and then the party moves on.  
“See.” Nathan laughs. “We’re fine.” 

“That’s a lot of people…” You say as you hear them moving past the door.  
“It’ll be the after-party.”  
“After party?”  
“He likes to play with his favourites. Don’t worry in a few hours he’ll have worn them out and sent them on their way.”  
“So like an orgy?” You ask and Nathan shrugs. “Shit, we left Selvig in there!”  
“He’ll be fine. They’ll be dancing as well as sex. Not everyone will be there for the extra-curricular. Just the music and the drinking. And Erik can take care of himself.”  
“Do you want to be out there?” You ask and Nathan glances at the door in distain.  
“Nah.” He ruffles your hair. “I had fun tonight. But be prepared for me to give him hell for this tomorrow.”  
You giggle drunkenly.  
“I’d pay to see that.”  
“Free show.” Nathan lifts his hand. “Scouts honour.”

“So, you really are a couple then?” You ask, snuggling back down and rummaging in your paper bag for another toffee.  
“As much as a Mortal and an Asgardian can be.” Nathan shrugs. “We’re different on so many levels, and not just physically. His culture is way more unforgiving. It’s taking time for him to adjust.”  
“Thrown you across the room yet?”  
“Once, after a particular blazing row. But he healed me up and behaved himself afterwards for over a fortnight. Apparently this can happen quite a lot in Asgard, they rough each other up over the smallest thing. Because they can take it, they’re tough bastards. We can’t, but in the heat of the moment he can forget.”  
“They can be scary.” You agree. “Thor could be the same. Only I don’t think he’d ever forget his strength around Jane, he loves her too much.”  
Nathan looks away.  
“He only forgets when he’s not himself. When he’s fully of his own mind, he’s very gentle with me. Playful and witty and…” Nathan sighs deeply. He plays with his paper bag, puts it down and then continues, but he doesn’t make eye contact.

“The Prince loves me. He never says it, because he can’t. He can’t give it freely. But he buys me gifts, brings me flowers and wine and toffee from Pen 8. He cares for me, let’s me vent and most of the time he takes the good with the bad. For every time he accidently hurts me, there’s another when he’s so loving, I just can’t believe I’m with him. And he gives in to me, when we have fights he doesn’t automatically win. He doesn’t automatically fall back on his spells or his strength to get his own way. But in public, he beats me when we argue. He can’t show weakness, but he doesn’t mean it…” He shakes his head. “It sounds like I’m making excuses for him, but I’m not. It’s just a hard one to explain.”  
“I get it.” You agree. “SHIELD couldn’t understand why I’d ever want to go back to him.”

“See this?” Nathan taps his collar. “It’s a security device. The Prince made it for when he gets taken by his master. He often comes back mad, brutal and baying for blood. Desperate and driven to animalistic behaviour from what he’s been through.”  
“I’ve seen it, I talked him down once.” You say and Nathan gives you a look of respect. He runs his finger around the emerald at his throat.  
“This snaps him out of it. If I get him to a point where he’s focused solely on me and recite a sentence he’s taught me, then the emerald flashes in a sequence that gives him back his wits. He gave it to me, so he’d never hurt me and so I can save everyone else.”  
“He cares, I know he does.” You snuggle in hard and Nathan has to readjust, grumping slightly as you push him down the bed a little. “If I thought he was really mad, or a lost cause, I would never have come back.”  
“And it’s why I can’t leave him. But trust me, tomorrow he’s getting an earful for turning me down for bridesmaids.”  
“Back to Lara?” You ask hopefully.  
“Sure.” And Nathan presses play again. “This is your night, Ace. Don’t forget it.”

*

You wake to the soft click of the door opening. You must have fallen asleep half way through the second movie, because the titles are doing their thirty second repeat over and over again. You yawn and stretch, pressing against Nathan’s solidly sleeping body. His head is back against the headboard and he’s snoring gently.  
“So this is where you ended up.” The God-King slides into the room. “I did wonder.”  
“Nathan was looking out for me.” You say, a little defensively, as the God-King closes the door again behind him. He looks clean and fresh, not like he’s been entertaining for most of the night. His clothes are laundered and pressed and his hair is still damp from the shower. He seems in high spirits, but his eyes are a little predatory as they fix on Nathan’s sleeping form.  
“Did he care for you? Did he do well?” The God-King circles the bed to stand over his mortal.  
“Better than well. We had a good time. How’s Mr Selvig?”  
“Sleeping off a massive hangover.” The God-King’s eyes flicker to you. “After finding one of my stashes of brandy.” His eyes narrow slightly. “I wonder how that happened?”  
“I couldn’t say.” You keep your tone innocent and the God-King exhales in amusement, turning his attention back to Nathan. 

“Who talked you into it? Nathan or Selvig?”  
“I’m not going to say.”  
“Both then.” The God-King nods. “I thought as much.”  
“It’s your fault, you didn’t leave us with enough to have a proper party.”  
“I left you with enough to get happy, not drunk, on purpose.” The God-King leans over to stroke Nathan’s hair, the back of his fingers trailing the man’s cheek. His expression softens as Nathan murmurs in his sleep. “He drinks far too much.”  
“Well maybe you shouldn’t hurt him so much.” To tell him, reproachfully. “Then he wouldn’t need it.”  
The God-Kings eyes flash with annoyance.  
“One night and you know him so well?” His voice is filled with sarcasm.  
“I know he loves you. Really loves you and you abuse it.” You say and give a little whimper as the pain crawls into your head.  
“I think your time in SHIELD has ruined your manners.” The God-King says quietly.  
“I think you never had any to start with.” You snarl out and the pain gets worse, much worse. You give another soft cry and nuzzle against Nathan for comfort.  
“He won’t help you.” The God-King says.  
“He might.” You whisper out, your head buried in cotton.  
The God-King considers.  
“He might at that.” He agrees and the pain eases away. You give a little relieved sigh. “But you will behave. Understand me?”  
“Yes.”  
“Good.”

The God-King sits on the bed next to Nathan. He plays with the strands of his hair and then reaches down, pressing his fingers against his solar-plexus. Down near his liver.  
“Oh, Nathan.” He sighs. “The damage you do to yourself.” He begins to whisper a simple healing spell. You can feel the heat coming from his fingers and into Nathan’s skin and the sleeping man starts to toss and turn, trying to get away from him. The God-King steadies him by closing his hand tightly on Nathan’s shoulder.  
“You’re hurting him.” You say with a plea in your voice as you pull back from the man. You look up accusingly at the God-King, nervous of more pain, but wanting to defend Nathan as much as you can.  
“For his own good. His liver is damaged. From too much drinking. He was like this before I met him.” The God-King sounds sad. “So the healing hurts.” 

“Please, don‘t hurt him.” You say, moving your hand over his. “Please.” You look at the struggling man. “He loves you.”  
“I know.” The God-King says, his voice so soft and sad. “I know.”  
“Let him go. Please stop this. Let him go. If you really love him, you’d stop putting him through this.”  
“What do you know of love?” The God-King sneers. “And anyway, I don’t want to.”  
“Why be like this? You can be better than this.”  
And the God-King looks up at you, his eyes so hard you flinch backwards, moving away across the bed in fear, driven back by the anger on his face. For a moment you honestly think he’s going to come after you with violence, his fingers flexing as he watches you crawling backwards across the sheets. Then he looks away.  
“Foolish, thing.” He mutters. “So very young and foolish.”  
He goes back to his spell and you realise that he’s keeping Nathan under. That’s why the pain doesn’t wake him, why he struggles in his sleep.  
“Stop torturing him.” You whisper. “Please, please. Let’s just go and start our day.”  
The God-King snorts in amusement  
“Whatever makes you think I came in here for you?” He asks. 

You watch him, healing Nathan, stroking his hair. Hurting him but keeping him sleeping so he doesn’t suffer from it. The anger fading as the spell does its work and his expression softening once more to a sad fondness. You keep your distance and you know he’s tracking you, that he still might get violent if you distract him again. So you stay quiet, at the far side of the double bed, waiting to see what will happen. Finally, he sighs.  
“Not perfectly healed, but the best I can do.” He looks at you sternly. “No more alcohol. Not in these quantities. Do you understand?”  
“Yes.”  
He nods.  
“You’ll remember your manners soon enough. I’m willing to wait a short while. Give you time to readjust to the way things used to be.”  
“It’s all different.” You say and he shrugs.  
“No more than it was at first for you, when I plucked you from the war zone. In fact, you are in a much stronger position now than back then. You’ve learned a great deal. You will cope, I know you will.” He cups Nathan’s head in his hand. “Now go turn off the television.”

Nathan’s eyes flicker as you slip of the bed to do as you’re told. The man groans as he comes around.  
“Uhhhhh… Fuuuuuck…” His eyes focus and he breaks into a large smile when he sees the God-King over him. “Well, good morning, Gorgeous.”  
“Good morning, Nathan.” The God-King tries to sound all business, but his voice has a gentleness to it you’ve never heard before. “Time to rise and shine. We have a long day ahead.”  
“What’s the rush? It’s still early.” Nathan grins and squirms in the God-King’s grasp. “Those bridesmaids tire you out?”  
“In truth, they bored me. No stamina.” The God-King goes to stand but Nathan grabs his arm to stop him. You expect him to brush the man off, but instead he pauses, sighing gently.  
“Nathan…” His voice is chiding and Nathan tuts at him.  
“Come on. That the best disapproving tone you can muster?” Nathan tugs at him and the God-King sinks back onto the bed. The man sits up, pressing his lips to his ear. “I missed you…”  
“Nathan…” But again there’s that gentleness. That reluctance to take full control of the situation. 

You turn off the television and Nathan looks at you from over the God-King’s shoulder, he winks and then starts to kiss the God-King’s throat. You bite your upper lip as you watch him overcome his Asgardian lover, watch as the God-King tips his head back and makes a strangely helpless noise. One of utter longing.  
“Nathan…” But his voice is no more than a breath. “Nathan, stop. We’ve got so much to do today…”  
“You’re the King, they can wait.”  
“I have to stop you.”  
“Then stop me.” Nathan grips the God-King by his upper arms and pulls him over his body and onto the bed. “You can end this, any time you want.”  
“Nathan…”  
“Hush now, Gorgeous.” Nathan climbs on top of him, pressing the God-King into the sheets. “You know you can’t fight me.” 

The God-King growls. He grips Nathan’s head tightly, pulling on his hair and forcing the man into a powerful kiss. Nathan grins as their tongues meet and reaches down, his hands tightening between the God-King’s legs. The Asgardian pauses, looking down, he looks back up at Nathan. Then he falls back onto the sheets, laughing.  
“Oh dear.” He says, releasing his grip on the man’s head. “I appear to have lost.”  
“Too damn right you have.” Nathan’s growl is just as deep as the God-King’s. Fierce and playful. “Now, you just lie back, Gorgeous, and let this happen.”  
“I am at your mercy.” The God-King’s voice is dry. “Please be gentle.”  
“We’ll see.” Nathan glances at you. “This is about to get pretty hot, Ace. You might want to head on out.”  
“I, uhm…” You shift uncomfortably. “I can’t. Not without permission.”  
Nathan frowns at you. 

“What do you mean?” He demands.  
“I can’t. I have to wait. Unless the God-King says I can.”  
Nathan looks back at the God-King.  
“Go on. Give permission.” He says and the God-King shrugs.  
“Maybe I’ll make them watch.” He grins, his eyes cruel. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”  
“No. It’ll put me off my stroke. Come on, don’t be an asshole.”  
“They’re going to have to learn sometime…”  
“Not today. Not before breakfast.” Nathan glares at him. “Let the kid go.”  
“So forceful.” The God-King says, licking his lips. “Very well. You may leave, Child.”  
“Uhm…”  
“Yes?”  
“Can I? Can I shower?”  
“Really?” Nathan says, his voice filled with angry disbelief.  
“I trained them well.” The God-King smiles up at his mortal, not even looking at you. “Yes Child, you may shower. There is a set of clothes waiting for you in the trunk.”  
“My trunk is still there?”  
“I knew you would return.”  
“And… And… Shampoo?”  
“Shampoo?” Nathan glares at the God-King. “You refused them shampoo?”  
“Only while I was asserting my dominance.”  
“I’ll show you dominance.” Nathan growls.  
“Promises, promises.” The God-King grins. “Go on, Child. Clean yourself however you want, with whatever you need. And enjoy your breakfast, we’re going to be a while.”  
“Too damn right.” Nathan dips his head back down to the God-King’s neck and growls again as the God-King tips his head back, exposing his throat to his teeth. Nathan starts to expertly peel off the God-King’s shirt.  
You hastily make your exit. 

*

The lounge is a mess, you’re not even certain anyone made it to the bedroom. The three bridesmaids are sprawled, deeply asleep and in different stages of undress around the area. One on the table, one on the carpet and another curled next to a slumbering Selvig on the couch. Mr Selvig is still fully dressed, if very unkempt and rumpled, you’re fairly certain he wasn’t part of the festivities. You can smell cooking from the kitchen, the servants are already up and about and making breakfast. They smile as they see you enter, they’re making more than enough for everyone. Bacon and eggs and all the trimmings.

“Good morning.” You say politely. “You’re making a lot. Are we expecting visitors?”  
They glance at each other and then one of the men moves away from the cooker and a woman takes over from his station. He bows very low to you.  
“Good morning, Holy One. We’re just being over-cautious. It’s going to be a busy day. Better to make too much than too little.” He says, his voice filled with careful politeness. It seems like that’s how everyone is going to sound when they talk with you for a while yet. You nod and smile encouragingly.  
“How long are you going to be?”  
“Another ten minutes.” He glances back. “So we can get the bacon how he likes it.”  
“Thank you. You were here before I left, weren’t you?”  
“We’ve served the God-King since day one.” One of the women says softly. “There was nothing we could do to help you. Please do not be angry at us, Holy One. It broke our heart to see how you were treated, but we were forbidden from doing anything.”  
“He threatened our families.” The man says.  
“Does he still have them?” You ask and they shake their heads.  
“He let them go, months ago. Now he pays us.” The man smiles. “Life is getting better here every day.”  
“Thank you for feeding me. For looking out for me. When I was alone and afraid.”  
They look between themselves and smile.  
“You are welcome, Holy One.”  
“I’ve got to shower and get ready for my day.” You bow back to him. “But I want you to know that I never blamed you for what happened. You were cold, but not unkind. You did your best in a terrible situation.”  
“Thank you, Holy One. You’ve no idea what that means to us.”  
“I’m glad things are working out for you.” You nod and smile and then head back out to get clean and dressed. 

*

The lounge is exactly as you left it as you come out from your shower twenty minutes later. You still can’t get over shampoo, maybe after a few weeks of unlimited use it will lose its novelty, but right now you love washing your hair over and over again. You still remember that first shower in the gym, the humiliation of it, the way he made you beg. Any shower alone and with shampoo is a cause for a small celebration, you might never take them for granted again.  
The clothes you are wearing are illusionary, but they feel good and fit well. You’ve laid out the leather wedding clothes for the servants to take away and clean. You look around the room, deciding who to wake first. Your gaze falls on the bridesmaid bent over the table. She’s drooling slightly onto the wood and looks as if she’s passed out just as the God-King has left her. She’s wearing nothing but her unzipped bodice and you feel very sorry for her. You walk over with quiet steps and grip her shoulder, waking her as gently as you can.  
“Huh? Wasup?” Her eyes are glazed and her muscles seem to be cramping. You help her off the table and onto one of the seats. She tries to sit down and then jumps up, obviously in pain. On the second attempt she eases herself down more carefully.  
“Owwww. What did he do to me?” She asks. She sits back and grips her head. “How drunk did I get?”  
“Very, I think.” You look around the room. “Which of the clothes are yours?” 

You follow her directions until there’s a complete pile at her feet. She looks at it helplessly.  
“Don’t worry, I’ll help you get dressed. In a minute, once you’re ready.”  
“My head’s pounding…”  
“Want me to check it out? I know a spell that might ease the pain.”  
She seems uncertain, looking you up and down, assessing the threat. Then she nods.  
“Sure.”  
You lean forward, making your movements slow and careful. She flinches from your fingers, looking at you with fear, but there’s not much she can really do. You pause, giving her control of the situation and after a moment of thought she submits to your care. You place your fingers to her temples and whisper the soft, simple spell you use to get rid of your own headaches.  
“Better?” You ask once the magic has run its course. She nods, brightening.  
“Much better, thank you.” She bites her bottom lip. “Uh, Holy One… sorry.” She says quickly.  
“It’s okay. Looks like you’ve had a rough night.” You smile the encouraging smile you’re getting used to wearing around the God-King’s subjects and she brightens even more.  
“You’re a lot nicer than I thought you’d be.” She says and you shrug.  
“I didn’t write any of the stories.” You tell her and she laughs nervously. “Come on, let’s get you dressed. Breakfast should be nearly ready.”  
“Breakfast?”  
“As much as you can eat.” 

It’s easier to help the other two bridesmaids with the first one vouching for you. They also aren’t as undressed and don’t seem to have been attacked as thoroughly by the God-King. At least they can both sit down at the breakfast table without wincing. The other two bridesmaids are blonde, while the first has very dark hair. Now that it’s combed, she’s pulled it back into a bouncing ponytail, giving her a very athletic look. She’s taller as well, a bit broader around the shoulders and very beautiful in a sharp-cheekbone kind of way. She has more than a little of the Asgardian standards for beauty and you wonder if that was why the God-King was so much harder on her. The other two both fell asleep after drinking too much, but she’d fallen unconscious while the God-King was taking her from behind. And then it appeared that he’d just left her where she was, with no regard for her comfort or dignity.  
“He did treat you different, Soph.” One of the others agrees. “Especially when he got drunk.”  
“I don’t think I’ll be coming back.” The dark-haired bridesmaid sighs, moving in her seat and wincing again. “This wasn’t anywhere near as fun as I thought it might be.”  
“I’m going to go wake Mr Selvig.” You say, putting down a tray of coffee for them. “You all get your strength up.”  
“Thank you, Holy One.” Soph says and they all smile at you.  
“It’s okay. You all look beat.”  
They’re talking about you in hurried whispers as you leave the room and all of it is complimentary. 

“Not now…” Mr Selvig murmurs as you shake his shoulder. “Tired…”  
“It’s morning.” You say as gently as you can. “You can’t stay here.”  
“Comfy…” He complains and you laugh.  
“Come on, Mr Selvig. Or your breakfast will get cold.”  
“Breakfast?” His eyes open a suspicious crack.  
“Can’t you smell it?” You ask and he inhales deeply.  
“Bacon?”  
“And eggs and toast and anything else you can think of. The servants made loads.”  
He lifts himself up off the couch with reluctance. He lets you cast the headache removing spell with only a little resistance. His stomach growls when he moves.  
“Where’s Nathan?”  
“In bed with the God-King.” You grin as Mr Selvig looks at you strangely. “He making up for leaving Nathan for bridesmaids last night.”  
“Those two…” Selvig sighs. “I’ve never seen anyone make the Prince so happy.”  
“He’s not going to be allowed to keep him, is he?” You ask softly and Selvig sighs again.  
“No.” He agrees, sadly. “But I’m glad to see him smiling, while it lasts.” He steeples his fingers on his lap. “It was hard for me… To realise that he abused me against his will. I believed the myths for so long, I thought he was truly the Loki in the tales. But he’s not.” Selvig gives a lop-sided grin. “Even in the myths he’s a victim of propaganda.”  
“Yeah, well, aren’t we all?” You say offering your hand and helping him up. “You’ve got to fill me in on the stories that everyone in New York is telling about me. I think I’ve got an uphill fight on my hands.”  
“Not now.”  
“No. Today is looking to be busy and we’ve both got breakfast ready for us. But soon okay?”  
“Come up and visit me while I’m working. I’ll bring you up to speed.”  
“Thanks, Mr Selvig.”  
“It’s Erik.” He says reproachfully and you nod.  
“Thanks, Erik.”

Erik follows you into the kitchen and you both pile up the breakfast before joining the bridesmaids. They smile at Erik and compliment him on his dancing. He grins at them in his goofy way. Then you all sit down and start to eat. All of you concentrating on the food in an intense, but happy way. The silence is more than comfortable. 

The noises from the bedroom are getting louder and louder. The God-King and Nathan are really getting down to business. You exchange glances and giggle a little.  
“God, Nathan is so handsome.” One of the blondes says wistfully.  
“And such a gentleman.” The other says.  
“Such a sense of humour.” The first sighs.  
“Shame he’s gay.” Soph says. “But they always are, aren’t they? Perfect packages like that…”  
“He’s Bi.” You say sipping at a fresh coffee.  
“Seriously?” The second bridesmaid leans over the table, looking at you hopefully.  
“Hundred percent, he told me.” You smile. “He really hates that people think he’s gay.”  
“Wow, we’ll so have to corner him!”  
“You’ll think he’ll be interested in us, after that?” Soph gestures back to the room where things are getting really loud. “After having him as a lover?”  
“You didn’t like the experience.” Erik points out and she shrugs.  
“Yeah well. I’m not Nathan Drake.” She laughs. “He’s just sex on legs.”  
“So dreamy.” One of the blondes agrees.  
“So he’ll be nice to him.” Soph says. “Because he wants to keep him.”  
“You sooo don’t know the God-King.” You say, shaking your head.  
“Oh Norns, Nathan, just shut up and fuck me!” The God-King shouts through the wall and you all break down in to fits of giggles. 

“Gee, well I’m glad you’re all late for our meeting because of a solid reason.” You all turn to see the Captain, leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen. He looks pissed and everyone stiffens, even the bridesmaids. The tension rises sharply. He kicks off the wall and saunters into the room. You feel Erik touch your arm to calm you – your heart is thudding in your chest and you can barely breathe, you’re so afraid.  
The Captain pulls a plate from the stand and starts to fill it with the remains of the breakfast, throwing things on in a haphazard, casual way.  
“Kid. Coffee.” He says and you obediently slide off the seat to get him a cup. “Black, no sugar.”  
“Yes, Captain.”  
His gaze runs over the women, his eyes speculative.  
“Got any plans for the evening, ladies?” He asks, smiling coldly.  
They all quietly shake their heads, their eyes wide and frightened.  
“That’s good.” He nods. “That’s good.”  
He pulls up a seat and throws the plate onto the table. Everyone flinches.  
“I could do with the entertainment and it looks like he hasn’t broken you, yet. It’ll be fun.” He grabs a fork and skewers a piece of bacon. “And I could do with a little fun. These last few days…” He shakes his head. “So tedious…”  
You put the coffee down next to him and he looks up at you.  
“Settling in well?” He asks you.  
“Not completely…”  
“We’ll sort it.” A ghost of a smile plays over his lips. “You’ll feel back at home in no time.”  
You swallow nervously and head back towards Erik.  
“No. Sit here. By me.”  
You glance at Erik, the man nods his head, he looks as scared as everyone else. His expression tense and watching everything carefully. You pull back the chair by the Captain instead.  
“There’s a good little thing.” The Captain doesn’t look at you as he bites into the bacon. “You and me, we’re going to get along just fine.”  
“Yes, Captain.” 

The room goes completely silent while he eats. You think he would take offense, but the Captain seems to enjoy everyone’s unease. He’s in control here, no one would dare to cross him and he’s lapping it up. He eats aggressively, toying with everyone in the room, making them flinch when they think he’s going to reach over to touch them, but takes the salt instead. Things like that, keeping everyone on edge, promising but never delivering on the violence. It’s all pretty unbearable.  
You can’t move, you’re completely frozen in your chair. You never thought fear could be like this, could keep you paralysed and unable to fight. You always thought you’d be able to resist, to struggle or run, but here and now, you’re completely at his mercy. And he knows it, he keeps glancing at you and smiling. 

“Refill.” He shoves the cup into your hands and you get up to do as he says. That’s the only time you can move, to carry out his demands. Keep him happy. Don’t piss him off. Do what he says and no one will get hurt. You hope no one will get hurt. There’s no guarantee. He always feels on the verge of attack, tense and fierce and full of power. You remember how hard he punches. You never want to experience that again. You hand him the full cup and he takes it, his eyes running over your face, drinking in your fear. You sit down beside him again and he runs a hand down your side.  
“Easy, little one. Easy.” He says softly. “We’ll get you back into training soon enough.” Another smile plays over his lips. “Then I’ll kick your ass. Not today.”  
“Yes, Captain.” You choke out. You look down at your hands.  
_Please don’t hurt me. Oh god, please don’t hurt me._  
He runs his fingers down your back, his fingernails brushing against the cloth. You shiver in your terror and he gives a snort of amusement.  
“You’ll settle in just fine.” He says again. “You’ll see.”  
“Yes, Captain.” 

“How’s the work going Selvig?” He asks, not taking his eyes off you.  
“It’s going slow. But well.”  
“Good. I hate the Chitauri. They are such a pain in the ass.”  
“But they are helping us win the war.”  
“And hindering.” The Captain snorts. All you can focus on are his fingers, running up and down your shirt. Gentle right now, but promising something awful.  
“We can’t help that. Alien minds are different. They have other priorities.” Selvig shrugs.  
“Amen to that.” The Captain sighs. “But you will let me know the second you have the breakthrough?”  
“You’ll be the second to know. After the God-King.”  
“Good.” The Captain’s eyes roam over you, taking in how you’re shivering away, caught with the urge to flee and the inability to move. You hate him touching you. “Good.”  
He smiles at you. 

“And what about you, Short Stuff? You going to join me on the battlefront?”  
“Whatever his Majesty commands.” You say. You can’t look at him, you’re feeling sick with fear.  
“Yeah. That’s how it works.” He agrees. He glances back towards the room where Nathan and the God-King are still being extremely noisy. “How long until he kills the idiot?”  
“Nathan isn’t an idiot.” Selvig says quietly and you’re impressed by his defiant tone. “You’d know that if you actually ever talked to him.”  
“Oh, we’ve talked.” He laughs. “At length. He can’t fight worth a damn.”  
“I heard.” Selvig sounds angry. “That isn’t why he’s here.”  
“No. Brains and ass.” The Captain laughs. “That’s all he is… When his charisma doesn’t work, he’s damned helpless. He thinks he can get everything he wants with that pretty smile. I hope the General invites me to the party the day he decides to kill him.” He looks at you again, his fingers still moving, still trapping you in confused terror. “Would you like to watch?”  
You shake your head.

“We’ll work on it.” He says. “We’ll work on you. Bevel those green edges. Make you stronger, harder. Make a real warrior out of you.”  
“Yes.” Your voice is tiny.  
“I’ll have a word with the General. See if he’ll let me give you a room in my apartments. So I can watch you and teach you more effectively.” He leans in. “Get a little more intimate.”  
You close your eyes. Exhale shakily. Open them again.  
“Would you like that?” He asks.  
“Yes.” You’re having to force the words out. “Whatever his Majesty wants.”  
“Good.” He slaps your back and then stands.  
“Let the General know that SHIELD are getting pissy. I’ll stall them, but I’ll only be able to manage an hour or so before things go sour. They want Darcy back real bad.”  
“We’ll tell him.” Selvig agrees.  
“Good.” The Captain slaps you on the back again. “Later, Short Stuff.”  
“Goodbye, Captain.”  
“See you soon.”  
“Yes.”  
The Captain leaves with the same jaunty spring in his step.  
“The terrible things the Sceptre does to us.” Selvig says quietly, once he’s well out of earshot.

You try to pick up some conversation again, but everyone is subdued. The bridesmaids are terrified about tonight and won’t make eye contact. Everything Erik says falls flat and you quickly run out of topics to cover.  
It stays that way until the God-King and Nathan make an appearance. They’re rumpled, but extremely happy and laid back. The God-King heads for the coffee and his paper, Nathan goes for the food.  
“Well, kids. We’re all quiet today.” Nathan says, biting into a piece of toast and turning to the table. “What’s up?”  
“The Captain was here.” Erik says softly and Nathan glances at everyone, his gaze stopping at you.  
You’re still shivering.  
“Right.” Nathan doesn’t say anything else. He walks over and sits in the Captain’s chair beside you. He opens his arms and you fall against him, shaking violently and trying not to cry. “The scary bastard.”  
“He’s all right.” The God-King says, sipping his coffee and checking the headlines. “He’s just too much of a soldier to relax. And we need scary bastards, especially when they’re war assets.”  
“Don’t let him train me.” You say, rubbing your hands against Nathan’s rumpled cotton shirt. You love how it feels, even if it’s comfort is limited right now. It doesn’t smell right anymore, not fresh or of Nathan, but of sex and the God-King. It isn’t as comforting as it was. “Don’t let him take me down to live in his apartment. Please, please, please.”  
“What?” The God-King arches an eyebrow. “Absolutely not. I need you sane.”  
“Thank you.” You start to cry with relief. “Thank you.”  
Nathan strokes your hair and holds you close.  
“Take it easy, Ace. We’ll keep you safe.”

The God-King finishes his first coffee, pours himself another and then piles a plate for breakfast. It looks a bit a sparser now, but there’s still plenty for his Asgardian appetite. He sits down beside Selvig, opposite the bridesmaids, letting you and Nathan have your moment of comfort.  
“Good morning, ladies.” He gives his most ingratiating smile. “I see my child has taken care of you.”  
“Yes, Majesty.” The blonde ones say in unison, but Soph is very quiet. The God-King’s eyes slide over her.  
“You were very satisfying last night.” He tells her, raising his cup and nodding at her. She gives a small half-smile, but doesn’t look at him. “I think I got a little carried away.”  
“I think you did, too.” She murmurs, barely audible at all.  
“Do you require healing? When mortals are as striking as you, as astoundingly beautiful…” He smiles as Soph blushes. “I forget I’m not on Asgard among the nobility.”  
Nathan makes quiet sick noises that only you can hear. You look up at him and he puffs his cheeks as if he’s about to vomit. You grin and look back at the God-King. He’s completely focused on Soph in a complete charm offensive.  
“Are you full, have you eaten well?” He asks and she nods. “Do you require more rest?” She shakes her head. “Come now, you passed out I was so rough with you. A mistake on my part. Perhaps, in recompense, I could help you. You have certainly caught my eye.” He looks her over again, thoughtfully as he sips his coffee. “I was thinking of some sort of permanent stamina spell, a way to make you stronger, more resilient.” He laughs. “No mortal male would ever be able to best you ever again. I could give you taste of what it is to be from my world. To be as confident and powerful as one of my people. To mirror your natural beauty with our natural strength.”  
Her eyes flicker with interest. The God-King puts down his cup decisively.  
“Come with me.” He stands and offers his hand and after a moment of hesitation, looking deeply into his eyes, looking for the trick, she takes it and lets him lead her from the room.

“Well, he’s insatiable today.” Nathan shakes his head. “Victory sharpens his appetite.”  
“What’s he going to do?”  
“He has a spell half ready in his room, something experimental. He’ll give it to her and then ravish her again. Then probably lock her in his bedroom to leave her to sleep it off while the spell does its work. She’s not the first.”  
“Is he going to kill her?” One of the blondes asks, alarmed.  
“We’re his playthings, sugar. Never forget it.” Nathan sits back, still chewing on toast. “If she survives she’ll have Asgardian attributes, he didn’t lie about that. He’s trying to find ways to enhance humans for the war effort. Soph’s just volunteered.”  
The two bridesmaids look between each other.  
“But what about the Captain?”  
“What?” Nathan asks.  
“The Captain wants them in his apartments tonight.” You tell him and Nathan laughs.  
“That is so not going to happen.” He glances back to the lounge. “Though if Soph proves tough enough, the Captain could be in for a surprise...”

“How can you be so calm about this?” One of the women demands. Nathan looks at her and shrugs.  
“Your first day in the Empire State?” He asks and she nods. “You get out, you kiss the ground and never come back. This place is dangerous.”  
“Has he, has he experimented on you?” She asks, her voice nervous.  
“Hun, me and Selvig, we bring things to the table, we’re more use as we are. But you’re just a mortal to him. You eaten up?”  
They nod.  
“Okay, let’s get you out of here, before he comes out again.” Nathan kicks himself to his feet. “Come on. You got your easy ride with the God-King, you got close to edge but didn’t fall. You got to have sex with a God and live to tell the tale. And what a tale it will be.” He gestures them towards the door and they get up without argument. “If anyone asks, he took Soph for his harem, no talking what actually happened, okay?”  
They both nod in mute agreement. 

“This place is so different.” You say to Erik as you watch them leave.  
“The horrors are far more open around here now. We’ve almost become used to them.” Erik shrugs in the same way Nathan did. “New York was Ground Zero for the attack and now it’s Ground Zero for everything else. The population has been culled, has been forced into submission. And the one who owns the Prince is a terrible creature indeed. Worse than the Chitauri. The aliens just come in through the portal now, then move on. They’ve even stopped experimenting upstairs, at least for their purposes. Now we’re being weaponised in different ways. Being played with for the Dark Gods of the Void, the ones we don’t have any myths for.” He gives a small fearful smile. “But at least I don’t have the Sceptre in my heart anymore.”  
“Small mercies.”  
“Absolutely.” 

“So where do the Chitauri go? Just to the war effort? Or are they settling?”  
“I don’t know and I don’t ask. But some of the transmissions indicate they are taking land. Underground networks. Vast ones. And they come above ground to take human stock every now and again. That’s how I know what little I do. I’m in contact with the science stations the Prince sets up for the war effort. Temporary labs brought together to solve technical problems that arise, as these things always do. A few of them went silent after the Chitauri arrived, but the transmissions that came out before they went dead were horrific. Their last few hours were not pretty. The Prince told me not to think about it and to take them off my contact list, that they weren’t coming back. It frustrates him more than anything else, to lose good talent for no good reason. And he gets furious when the Chitauri do it without permission. He feels he gives them enough already.”  
“The tithe.” You say quietly and Erik nods.  
“The tithe.” He agrees. “The bane of all our lives.”  
“To stop the world from burning.” You sigh. “Have you met any of them yet? Any of these Void Gods?”  
“No.” Erik says. “And I’m grateful.”  
“Do you… Do you think they’ll come for me?”  
“If they do, they won’t kill you. You’ve got far too much potential…” Erik grimaces. “Sorry that sounded a lot more comforting in my head.”  
“It’s okay.” You sigh again. “I guess I know it might be coming.”  
“Remember, the Gods are cruel, but they can only break you if you let them.” Erik says firmly. “It’s in their interests to keep you whole and that is your advantage here. You’re a useful asset and they will want to use you anyway they can. Be clear, be firm and stand strong. We might be mortal, but there’s a reason why the earth still stands.” Erik smiles. “Because we’re too stubborn to lie down and die, even against incredible odds. We survived the Jotan war and we will survive this. I know you are strong enough.” He grins at you. “I know you’ll stay true.”  
“Thanks.” And you grin back. “I needed that.”  
“You have my respect, remember that. I don’t give it out too often.” Erik stands and offers his hand. “It has to be earned.”  
You take it and let him walk you out of the kitchen.  
The day is about to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I know it isn't massively event packed, but it was needed to reintroduce everything that has happened while the Kid was away and start paving the way for the next bit of action. 
> 
> I will still try to update semi-regularly, but I though you guys needed the warning that I might be away a while.


	46. Home Sweet Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re just bullshitting me, aren’t you? You’ve done something to me. Something horrible. I can feel it, like, like fingerprints in my soul. And you don’t want me to worry, so you’re messing with me.” You’re getting angry. You can’t help it.  
> “Are you questioning my motives?” He asks, sounding affronted.  
> “Yes.” You snap and he laughs.  
> “Good. Because you were beginning to forget the first lesson I ever taught you.”  
> “You can’t be trusted.” You say and he nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took so long.  
> I've started my third year at Uni, with all the extra work that entails and I appear to be living in Interesting Times in my normal life.  
> But anyway...
> 
> And it also took me ages to feels right for this chapter. I think I must have edited it at least five times before I even got close to where I wanted it to be, sometimes Loki and the Kid just don't want to play ball. 
> 
> But it's done now, it's as I like it and I hope you enjoy it.

*

Erik leaves once Nathan gets back, apologising and muttering about wasting too much time already. But he hugs you tightly and promises to drop everything if you need him, or to come up to the cells anytime to help out. He thinks your energy ability will come in handy and though it isn’t his top priority, you can see he would love to test it in person, just to see how it worked.

“Hey, Ace.” Nathan smiles, and shakes Erik’s hand in farewell. As the man disappears through the door, Nathan lifts his shirt, sniffs and grimaces. “You okay in here by yourself while I go shower?”  
“Sure.” You’re not sure if your smile is convincing, you’re not really okay by yourself, but you want to be brave. “Want me to get you an outfit from your room?”  
“Nah. Today’s fashion statement will be illusionary. We’re going to court and the Prince hasn’t had the time to sort out a full Asgardian wardrobe for me yet.” Nathan winks. “And he hates it if I have to wear the same thing twice.”  
“Okay. But be quick…?”  
“I promise, Ace.”  
He’s using the name to comfort you. You know what he’s doing, but accept it anyway. It’s great to be comforted like that. It helps you keep it together.  
You head to the couch to sit down and wait. It isn’t long until you hear the shower running in the bathroom. Nathan’s going to keep his word.  
But you still feel uncomfortable and on edge being by yourself in the lounge. This isn’t a safe space for you any more, anyone could walk in at any time. The Captain could come back, looking for the God-King and find you here all alone. You shiver and rub your arms.  
You wait for Nathan to get back. 

It doesn’t help that the sensations coming from the God-King’s bedroom are really un-nerving. You can feel whatever’s happening resonate through your wires – something really big and dangerous is going down in there. You’re trying not to connect with it, but it’s really hard. Like trying not to listen to loud music in another room or trying to ignore a heavy bass beat that’s shaking the floor.  
He’s put a muffling spell up, so that you can’t physically hear what’s happening, but you don’t need to. You can feel the way he’s changing reality in there, changing Soph into something different. That red and silver construct you sensed last night is active now. Aware. Focused on her. And it’s hungry…  
You shiver again.  
No doubt the silencing spell is to just save anyone outside from hearing her screams. To hide whatever’s happening from someone casually walking by. He knows so many small useful spells. Even if he uses them in horrible ways. You can do so much with all the little things he’s taught you, you really want to start learning new stuff as soon as possible. For protection more than anything else, even small spells can do awesome things if you put your mind to it. If you try to think your way out of situations. A silence spell could be so useful in so many different ways… 

You shift suddenly in your seat as the God-King does something to Soph that reverberates through the entire apartment, making the hairs on your entire body stand up and your stomach lurch with reaction. A sealing of the spell that doesn’t feel like his magic at all, but something darker, more primal. You taste a sliver of the Tesseract on your tongue.  
Then the muffling spell drops, eaten by the powerful thing that has just bonded to Soph. Half the wards fall as well and some of the illusory books disappear from their shelves as the sealing spell devours all the magical energy around it. Your wires hum softly with the impact, but it does you no harm – you have no charge in you for it to take. When it passes the air feels clearer, like ozone after a storm. When the soft ringing leaves your ears, you hear the sounds of sex coming from the God-King’s room, loud and fierce, Soph’s sobbing whimpers and his calm commanding voice. You can’t make out the words, you don’t want to make out the words. But it doesn’t sound as if she’s enjoying herself. You curl up in your seat and will Nathan to hurry back. You can still hear him in the shower, he’s taking way longer than he promised.

The God-King appears a few minutes later, while the shower is still running in the bathroom. He straightens his outfit as he closes the bedroom door behind him. There’s an audible click of the lock sliding into place. He looks around the room, his eyes focusing on you. He shakes his head in amusement.  
“What are you doing, Child?” He asks. “All curled up in the corner. Why not use the whole couch?”  
“I like it here.” You mumble, not making eye contact. “It’s comfortable.”  
“And it makes you feel small and safe.” He shakes his head again. “You hate being back already, don’t you?” He walks over and pauses when he sees you pull back even tighter into your corner. He nods and sits on the arm of the couch furthest away from you. Still giving you your space, still respecting your need for distance.  
“Maybe…” You admit. “It’s been a weird experience. I, I wasn’t ready for all the changes…”  
“I’ll grant you that.” The God-King looks down at you thoughtfully. “Though, I want you to understand, I absolutely wish you no harm.”  
“I know.” You nod. “Doesn’t mean it won’t happen though, does it?”  
“No.” The God-King agrees. “What we wish for and what actually happens… But still intentions should be made clear, don’t you think?”  
“I guess.”  
“And I don’t intend you any harm.” He smiles at you and you nod in understanding. 

He looks different than he did before you left. You haven’t really had the chance to look at him since you got back, to really look at him. He seems more weary and amused, the fire behind his eyes isn’t as fierce. He’s settling a little, getting into a routine, he’s calmer overall. Still dangerous, always dangerous, but far more controlled. You can feel the weight of his years behind him, pushing down on him, tiring him, perhaps. The empty sadness of someone surrounded by bright, intelligent people he knows he will outlive by generations.  
His eyes narrow slightly.

“Are you appraising me?” He asks and you shrug.  
“I was trained by Black Widow. You tell me.”  
He snorts in amusement.  
“I’ve missed watching you grow up. And I was so looking forward to it.” He cocks his head to one side, watching you carefully. “You left me as a confused, uncertain child but have come back a determined young adult.”  
“I found my space to grow.”  
“That you did.” He slips down from the arm, moving closer to you on the cushions. You pull your legs up into your chest, moving away from him as much as you dare.  
“Are you afraid of me?” He asks and you bite your bottom lip.  
“I thought you were going to beat me earlier, back in the room with Nathan.”  
“I was.” He says, nodding. “But I decided against it.”  
“So is that the way it is now? Not just the pain up here?” You touch your forehead. “But actually physical punishment as well?”  
The God-King considers. He moves up the couch a little further, so you push back into your seat. You’re nervous, but not scared, not panicking, not yet. He’s just goading you, seeing how you will react. He reaches out, his movements slow, like he’s dealing with a frightened animal. His fingers touch your hair and you flinch away. He pauses, waits for you to settle and then touches your hair again. You let him stroke you this time, his fingers moving gently through the strands, watching him carefully as he watches you. The smile on his face is encouraging, so you let yourself relax a little. 

“Our relationship, as master and student, it is a different one to how we were before.” He says.  
“Different to helpless kid and Asgardian captor?” You say, your voice shaking ever so slightly.  
“Is that the way you saw it?” A frown flickers across his face. “Yes, I suppose from your point of view…”  
“From everyone’s point of view, except yours…” You say, your tone a little defiant. But you don’t want to push him, you don’t want him to hit you, you just want him to see.  
The God-King sighs, he looks so disappointed in you. His fingers continue to stroke your hair, he’s trying to calm you, but all you can see is the anger on his face in Nathan’s bedroom, the way he’d curled his fingers. The awful promise of violence.  
“Perhaps.” He says. “But things will be different now. Your punishments will be more physical, but instructive as well. I wielded the mental pain as a form of control, as a way to keep you in line with my wishes. It was never meant to be a tool of learning.”  
“I know.” You say quietly.  
“So you will know that I did not teach you anything but compliance when you were here last.” The God-King’s expression turns stern. “I trained you to be a good little mortal, to have manners and to be subservient while the wires inside you matured. That was your whole purpose, your whole reason for being. And while that has all changed, that my view of you has changed completely… I must admit that it vexes me that those lessons have been undermined in your time away.” 

“I’ll do what you want.” You say to reassure him. “I might…” You swallow nervously under his stern gaze. Gods, you’d forgotten how frightening that gaze could be. “I might be a little, uhm, mouthy…? But that’s because I’ve been taught to use my wits, not just my brain. To put my point across, to uhm…” You go quiet, looking away. Shit he’s going to hit you. But you’ve come this far. “My point, uhm, my point is… That…”  
“Yes?” And his voice is amused, not angry. You glance back at him.  
“That I’m still compliant, okay? I’m still your child… I’ll still, I’ll still…” You swallow hard before taking the plunge. “I’ll still do what you want, whatever you want…” 

He moves in close and you yelp as he slides his arm around you. He hugs you close and kisses your hair. He strokes your shoulders gently, lovingly. He holds you until you start to relax a little, to lean into the comfort he’s offering. He sits you on his lap and you curl against his chest, sighing softly. He gives a little chuckle, pushing the errant strands of hair into place, smoothing your clothing.  
“How do you see me now?” He asks.  
“I don’t… I don’t know…” You say truthfully. “You’re still frightening and, and dangerous.”  
“I always will be.” He agrees.  
“And all Asgardians scare me. Thor and your dad and Heimdall…”  
The God-King stiffens at the name and then sighs when he feels you tense as well.  
“Hush.” And he waits until you’ve relaxed again before continuing. “You do not see me as a parental figure? A person in authority?”  
“Maybe. But you’re not my dad, you never will be.”  
“No, but a guardian perhaps? Someone who will go to the ends of the earth to bring you home?”  
You sigh a deep heavy sigh and you rest against him.  
“Thank you for coming for me. Even… even after everything that’s happened… Thank you, for bringing me home.”  
“I did not want some of the things happening in the way they did. But my hand was forced…”  
“And you cannot appear weak.”  
“No.” He agrees.  
“I understand.” You say and you feel him smile, your hair ruffling as he exhales happily.  
“You are my, Child.” He tells you. “And I will always care for you.” 

You feel him pressing against your shields and you lower them, letting him in.  
“This will be uncomfortable, but no more than that. I just need to check you mental well-being.” He tells you and you nod.  
He pins your mind carefully. He’s so powerful. You give a small whimper and he fills your thoughts with a loving reassurance. You’d forgotten how strong he is in person, how much of a joke your defences are against him. Now, with his power boosted through touch, he can completely dominate your mind as easily as he could physically dominate your body. He spreads your mind out gently, holding and securing each part in place. Inspecting you, seeing how you’ve changed while you were away. Every time you whimper, he strokes you reassuringly. Every time fear takes control he carefully pushes it aside. He overwhelms you with thoughts of his care and pride of you. 

“Calm now, young one. Be calm.” And his mind resonates with his words. You can feel your muscles relaxing, your body resting heavily against his. You feel him passing through each part of your mind, becoming reacquainted with your strengths and weaknesses. You can feel yourself slipping away, into a well of peace and gentle reassurance. He’s not going to hurt you and there is only a little discomfort, only a small taste of fear. He’s brought you home and now he’s checking that you are well. Just like Natasha checking you for injuries after a fight, he’s just making sure your mind is healthy and strong.  
Something deep inside screams and snarls, tries to tell you that this is wrong. That you can’t trust him. But it’s too distant to make an impact. Every time it tries to pierce the veil of peace he has around you, he takes it and moves it back into the deep parts of your brain. After its third attempt he chains it there so it cannot return. You can hear that part of you wailing, like a dog in the night. And then he cuts that impulse as well and everything is silent. 

“You’re such a delicate little thing, beneath all the posturing and bluster.” His voice sounds sad. “Such a pretty little mortal, so young and fragile…”  
“I have you to protect me.” You tell him and a taste of bitterness flows through his thoughts.  
“They’ll tear you to pieces.” He sighs. “I have to make you ready. Before it’s too late.”  
“Too late for what…?”  
He sends another wave of peace through you and you feel your body shiver as you relax into him. You feel boneless and weightless, totally dependent on his strength to stop you sliding off the couch.  
“What are you doing to me?” You ask.  
“Making you safe.” He answers.  
You can feel him doing something, behind the peace, something that would make you scream if you could understand what was happening.  
“Stop.” You ask him. “Stop. Please.”  
“Oh, little one.” He sighs. “This will never stop.”  
And you start to cry. 

You don’t know how long it lasts, how long it takes him to do his work. He holds your mind a good distance from what he’s doing, keeping your conscious thoughts locked away from most of your emotions, only allowing you a sense of peace, of rest and relaxation. And yet you know, deep down you know that he’s doing something awful. It makes the tears flow and keep flowing down your cheeks, until your shirt is clinging and wet. He’s protecting you from it, but doing it all the same. Your limbs are so heavy, you’re completely at his mercy. You can’t find the strength in your muscles or the will to move. And though your mind is slightly freer – he’s had to release part of you from his hold, so that he can concentrate on his task – there’s nothing you can do to stop him or escape from where he’s placed you. The walls are like soft wax, firm, yet yielding to your hands. But every time you grasp at them, try to dig your way out, they cover your skin layer upon layer until you can no longer clean it off. Your fingers become clogged with mess, your hands solid with the substance.

You want to panic, you’re aware, consciously aware, that panic used to be an option – but you can’t anymore. He’s removed you from those emotions – they’re on the other side of the unbreachable wax layer and you can’t really remember what panic is like, even though you know you should be doing it right now. That it is the right emotion to have in this situation. But you feel blank and calm and utterly at peace, completely relaxed. And every attempt you make to get away saps at what little energy reserves you have left. It tires you a little more, so you sink a little deeper into the soft trap he has around your mind. The more you fight, the more helpless you become.

When he finishes you feel it, something shivering through your being, changing you to his design, and you give a low moan of fear. He hugs you to him, whispering sweet words of comfort while slowly releasing you from his hold. He gives you your mind back in steady stages, to save you from panic and to help you regain control. Once he’s sure you are secure, he withdraws completely and sits you up on his lap. You look him in the eye.  
“What did you do?” You ask, not demanding, not angry. You can remember fear now, can remember panic and it’s all you can do to keep them at bay. You’re terrified of him. The tears are still running down your cheeks, but somehow you don’t want to run away. Somewhere deep inside you’re still denying that he’s done anything to you, that you can trust him. That he hasn’t just hideously betrayed you.  
“It doesn’t matter.” He tells you and you want to scream. “Put it from your mind, or I will make you forget.” 

You bite your bottom lip, but you refuse to look away. You try to shame him into answering, but he doesn’t take the bait. In the end his pushes your head away, two fingers against your cheek, forcing you to look to the side, breaking the contact.  
“Enough.” He says, but his voice is gentle, filled with that ancient tiredness you sensed in him before.  
“Why?” You ask him, shivering. “Why?”  
“Because I love you and wish to defend you.”  
“But can’t you just be honest with me? Why do you have to betray me like this?”  
“Because the world is full of betrayal. Even those you love will betray you if they feel the reason is valid.”  
“And the reason is valid?”  
“Very much so.”  
“Is this how you sleep at night? By telling yourself this. By lying to yourself?”  
“Child…”  
“You’ve violated me! Again! You made me defenceless and then you forced your will on me! I’m fucking fifteen! I can’t fight you, you’re over a thousand years old! Why can’t you just leave me alone? Why can’t we have a normal relationship? Why must you keep doing this to me!?”

The God-King sighs in frustration. He pushes you from his lap and you get to your feet. He stands over you and you tremble. The tears start to fall again. You go to get to your knees, but he stops you, his hands kind, his touch gentle. He strokes your hair, soothing your fear and you feel your anger spiking again. Your emotions at war with themselves. Your terror of him and your rage at his betrayal warring in your head for control.  
“I didn’t take anything.” He tells you as he holds you steady. “I gave you a great deal.”  
“What did you give me? What use is it if I don’t know?” And you look up at him, so daring, so afraid.  
And he smiles at you.  
“And that, Child, is the question you need to find the answer to.”  
“What?” You frown at him. “I don’t, I don’t understand…”  
“Magicians and sorcerers do not learn by rote. They learn through doing, through experience and through questioning what they think they understand. By challenging every fact they ever knew. Taking each one and exploring it, looking at it from every angle and then discarding it if it does not hold up to scrutiny.”  
“So?”  
“So, I have just implanted half a dozen lessons you need to learn. But before you can learn them, you must find them and discover the right questions to ask.”  
“I don’t…” Your frown deepens. “I don’t get it…”  
“And so you start on the path of learning.” He says and you give him a cynical look.

“You’re just bullshitting me, aren’t you? You’ve done something to me. Something horrible. I can feel it, like, like fingerprints in my soul. And you don’t want me to worry, so you’re messing with me.” You’re getting angry. You can’t help it.  
“Are you questioning my motives?” He asks, sounding affronted.  
“Yes.” You snap and he laughs.  
“Good. Because you were beginning to forget the first lesson I ever taught you.”  
“You can’t be trusted.” You say and he nods.  
“The best and most important lesson. Everyone will betray you, little one. Everyone has their price. And my price is to keep you safe. I would rather have you suspicious and wary of me, than watch you create a misplaced trust in this dangerous and uncaring world. I am your guardian now and that is the best lesson I can bestow.”  
“Can’t you just show me love? Like a real parental guardian would do?” And you can’t help but show him the pain behind your words. The longing you have for a mother, for a father, for anyone to take the roles of the people you have lost forever. You’d do anything to have that safety net back in your life.  
“You have other people for that. Nathan and Selvig and Natasha. You do not need it from me. I offer protection and shelter and focus to your endeavours. A measure of comfort, nothing more. I would be giving you a disservice otherwise. I would be lulling you into a false sense of security, while beings more powerful than you can imagine sharpen their knives against you.”  
You shiver and look away.  
“I will however bestow hugs, whenever you need them.” He opens his arms, regal and mocking. You hate how much you need it, but you press against him with a grudging gratitude. 

“You smell of sex.” You grump at him as you fold into his arms.  
“Well, I have had sex since I last showered. Several times.” He laughs.  
“So you gonna shower again, or are you gonna go see SHIELD stinking like that?” You ask and he tilts his head to the side, looking down at you in amused contempt. He gestures and says a handful of words and he smells fresh and clean again, his rumpled clothes straight and ironed.  
“Is that an Illusion?” You ask, plucking at his nearest sleeve and smelling it.  
“No. I am fully clean now. A useful spell to know when out in the forest for months at a time. But in truth, I like showering and bathing.” He shrugs. “Some pleasures are not to be ignored just because of magic.”  
“You know lots of little practical spells…”  
“I do.”  
“Teach me this one.”  
“Now?”  
“Is it difficult?”  
“Not really.”  
“Then show me.” 

He removes his arms from around you, looking at you as if trying to gain your measure. Then he shrugs and gestures you to walk to the middle of the room. He follows you casually a few steps behind.  
“Eventually, I will teach you All-Speak. But right now, it is not essential for you to understand the words. You just need to get the intonations right.” His voice and manner have turned completely into that of a tutor. Cold and authoritative, but not threatening. He’s more than willing to teach if you’re ready to learn.  
“Can’t you just teach me in English? Like you did with the manacles?” You ask, running your hand over your wrist at the memory of the cold steel.  
“You think I would waste time teaching you magical syllables if it were that simple?” The God-King shakes his head. “The lock needs to be spoken to, to be compelled by your words. You need to focus your desire and overcome the will of the machine’s spirit. To force it to obey. All things that have technology in them have a mind, simple though it may be. So you have to focus your desire in a language you understand.”  
“Okay. I think I get that…”  
The God-King walks around you, touching the cloth of your shirt as he continues to explain. 

“Here you are changing reality. The actual fabric of space and time. You are dirty, but you want to change the world into one where you are clean.”  
“Sounds dangerous.” You say and the God-King shakes his head again.  
“We change reality every day in little ways, just by being alive and thinking. You just don’t notice, or if you do, you think your memory to be at fault. Every sentient being has the capacity for small magic, for tiny changes. But only a few can make the full, conscious decision to change the world around them.”  
“So what happens if I get it wrong?”  
“It will not work.”  
“That simple?”  
The God-King smiles. He’s mocking you, but you don’t mind. “Yes.”  
“Okay. Then let’s start the lesson.” You shake your arms out. “Show me what to do.” 

It takes about five attempts, but soon you’re smelling fresh and clean. You were already pretty clean, but now you feel good, your skin feels softer and your hair feels completely free of sweat and grit.  
“I wish you’d taught me this earlier…” You say looking at your sparklingly white fingernails.  
“In hind-sight, I wish I had too…” The God-King’s smile is still a little mocking. “Children get themselves so very dirty, so very quickly…”  
You grin at him.  
“So how would I change that sentence of magical words if I wanted to clean you?” You ask and he looks at you warily.  
“Why would you want to?” He asks, his tone suspicious.  
“Well not just you. What if, I don’t know, I was out with Nathan and he fell in a puddle and got muddy and we needed to go see you in the throne room or something…”  
The God-King looks unconvinced.  
“You really think there is any way I could prank clean you?” You ask.  
The God-King considers.  
“I suppose it would be a bit difficult…” He agrees.  
“So there is a way?”  
“Yes, you say everything the same, only with these two differences.” You listen to the syllables carefully.  
“Okay. I’m guessing they’re like changing the me to you, or the I to him or her?”  
“Correct.”  
You think about it for a minute. You don’t want to say the words and clean the God-King again because he might get pissy. And you know how to do it anyway. It’s just the same as what you’ve already achieved today. In fact, those words sound a lot like the ones you need to heal people’s headaches… In fact…

“Wait. Those new words are the same as the ones in the healing spell.” You say thoughtfully.  
“Healing spell?”  
“The one that gets rid of my headaches.”  
“Where did you learn that?” The God-King asks. “I never taught you it.” His voice is suddenly sharp and you take a step away from him. He almost sounds jealous, maybe a little possessive. You raise your hands to calm him  
“When you did it, when we were going to the trial of Alec, Son of William.” You say, your voice level and measured. “Remember, how you healed my headache from the stuff you did to my mind? When we were in the elevator…?”  
“You learned from me straight away?” The God-King sounds unconvinced. “From hearing it once?”  
“No. I went back through my memories and found it and then used it, when I was in Sokovia to get rid of a…” You look at your feet. “…to get rid of a hangover.”  
“So you have taken alcohol to excess?” His voice is disapprovingly parental. You wince.  
“Once or twice…” You don’t make eye contact.  
“So in the throes of a hangover, you were able to go back through your memories, find a spell I used on you once, and then worked it out and used it on yourself?”  
“Yes…” You bite your bottom lip. “Sounds pretty impressive when you put it like that…”  
“And it worked, even though you were using the wrong syllables?”  
“Yes. It did… Is that usual?”  
“Hardly.” And his voice is tinged with pride. “Use the other ones and it will work better.”  
“Okay. Thank you, Majesty.”

He shakes his head and walks over, talking you in his arms.  
“I really don’t know whether to be astounded at your creativity, or to break your neck now and save myself from making a monster.” He sounds like he’s joking, but his fingers are just a little too tight.  
“Uhm. You are kidding… Right, Majesty?”  
“Of course.” And the fingers instantly loosen. He strokes your hair instead. “And you will call me Master from now onwards, not Majesty.”  
“Do I have to?”  
“You are my student, are you not?”  
“But Master… Sounds kinda, I don’t know… bad…? How about Sensei?”  
“Don’t be stupid.” And he sounds pissed.  
“But I am your Padawan…”  
“And they use Master.”  
“Damn, I forgot you’ve seen Star Wars.”  
The God-King laughs.  
“How about Prince?” You say as a last-ditch attempt at making a compromise.  
“No.” There is no argument in his tone.  
“Okay.” And his fingers close around your neck again.  
“Okay, Master.” He says firmly and you shiver.  
“Okay, Master.”  
“Very good.” He lets you go.  
“But if I find a better name, you’ll go with it?” You ask and he sighs.  
“If you find a better one.” He agrees, sounding tired.  
“I’m such a little handful?” You ask hopefully and he shakes his head in rueful amusement.  
“I don’t know why I put up with you.” And he kisses your hair. 

“So where’s Nathan? He’s been gone a long time.”  
“He’s staring into the mirror in the bathroom. I’m going to let him go shower in a minute.” The God-King smiles.  
“You’re a massive control freak, you know that?”  
“It has been pointed out from time to time.” He shrugs. “I just didn’t want him walking in on me and the woman, or when I was talking with you.”  
“Or mind raping...”  
“Or teaching.” The God-King says sternly. “Do not try me, Child.”  
“I’m sorry… I just…”  
He hugs you close.  
“I know.”  
You rest against him, swallowing hard and nodding.  
“You never chose this. Neither did I, not really. I’m just trying to make the best of a very bad situation.” He ruffles your hair.  
You press your head against him and don’t say anything. 

Nathan comes out a short while later, drying his hair and smiling at you.  
“Hey, Ace. Told you I wouldn’t be too long.” He’s just wearing a towel. “Hey Prince, mind getting me dressed?”  
Loki’s lips twist, he gestures and suddenly Nathan is in the most amazing Asgardian outfit, crafted from green and black leather, a circlet of gold in his dark hair. It’s just so… tight… And heavily embroidered.  
“So, you’re actually just wearing a towel?” You ask and Nathan shrugs.  
“Just hope it doesn’t fall off during the ceremony.”  
“Here’s hoping.” You say and Nathan laughs, he walks forward.  
“You doing okay?”  
“Yeah.” You pull away from the God-King and he lets you go, only a shade reluctantly. You run over and embrace Nathan, looking up at him with wide, happy eyes.  
“Next time you need to get clean, just ask. I know a spell.”  
“You do?” And you know he’s just humouring you, but it doesn’t matter. You grin and he grins and it’s all great. You’re safe again. 

“Well if you’re done. I believe we’re forty-five minutes late for our meeting with SHIELD.” The God-King tries to sound stern, but he doesn’t quite pull it off. He’s loving the idea of being so fashionably late.  
He looks at you critically, gestures and your outfit changes to something far in excess of the illusion he left for you in the trunk this morning.  
“Much better.” The God-King nods in approval.  
“Lead the way, oh Master of Mankind.” Nathan gestures and the God-King glares at him.  
“Sometimes Nathan…” He says threateningly.  
“What, you just want to cover me in kisses? I have that effect on people. Even gods, so I’m told.”  
The God-King glares at him, but doesn’t reply. He gestures and you move away from Nathan to fall in step behind your master, walking on his other side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting the balance between the Kid's fear and anger and the scale of Loki's betrayal was a nightmare. This chapter ended in half a dozen different ways until I managed to strike the balance between the bad and the good. 
> 
> This relationship is getting complex...  
> Almost parental and child... but not quite...  
> Almost master and student... but not quite...  
> Almost captor and prisoner, but... yeah...  
> These two are getting major baggage and it's getting hard to write them in a way that strikes the balance without one of them losing it at the other. Because when one of them loses it, well things don't go well for the Kid and I really don't want that to happen. The Kid has enough problems without turning Loki psychotic on them... 
> 
> So, yeah, I just thought I'd share that insight, because it's a blinking nightmare for me to sort out. 
> 
> The next chapter will be plot, but I'm not sure when I'm going to get the time to write it. It's half-term next week, so I'm holding out a bit of hope. But then third year tends to laugh at the concept of half-term, so we'll see. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading and for your patience.  
> I love you all. ;)


	47. A Disagreement of Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ladies and Gentlemen, may I take a moment of your time.” She says loudly enough for her voice to carry. The SHIELD agents stop talking and look over with interest.  
> “May I introduce The God-King of the World. Protector and Benevolent Ruler of New York and all Her Principalities. Warrior-King and Master of the United States of America. He who should be Worshipped and Obeyed. He who is Adored by all his Subjects. He who will live outlive us and care for all our children and beyond. The True Owner of Mankind, Who will bring us all True Freedom. The God-King Loki of Asgard.”  
> Loki smirks and gives a mocking bow.  
> “And may I introduce his Consort, Nathan Drake.”  
> Nathan smiles and nods in welcome.  
> “And finally. The Youngest Member of our Royal Family. The One who was Lost, but is now Found. Student of Magic and Worthy Apprentice of the God-Kind of the World. The Holiest of Holy. The Child of the God-King.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh has it really been several months since I posted an update? Time really has flown...
> 
> This ones a bit short, sorry about that, but any update is better than none.  
> If you get an update reminder in a few days, it's because I'm going back through a few of the chapters to check them for errors. 
> 
> I'll also try to answer the comments that have built up, not today but as soon as I can... sorry I've been away so long. 
> 
> Read and enjoy.

*

The throne room is filled with the God-King’s personal guard.  
You’ve never seen them before, but somehow you know exactly who and what they are.  
The knowledge is there in your head, freshly implanted, part of what the God-King put into your mind while you were helpless on the couch. You scan through this new knowledge and realise that there are several packages, all neatly wrapped and ready for you to read when you get the chance. Knowledge of what has happened while you were away. Private messages to bring you up to speed. 

You open the guard package fully and get quick flashes of insight – how the God-King trained them through use of the Sceptre, implanting fighting reflexes straight into their hindbrain. You see him placing the Sceptre not just on their heart, but at the base of their skull and down their back, as well. Forming and hardwiring commands straight into the spinal column. The God-King is learning new techniques in how to create better servants. These guards are the result of one the successful experiments. They are faster than normal mortals, they feel less pain and their entire purpose is to scan a room and make military judgements from moment to moment. To make the space for their combat prowess, the God-King has removed their ability to question or think beyond these basic parameters. All of them are volunteers, all of them have strong minds, though not as resilient as the few Senechals the God-King employs around the city.  
They watch you enter with cold, calculating blue eyes. They all wear uniforms consisting of black leather and Kevlar, their arms are bare, but they have gold vanbraces that twist around their forearms and curve up to their elbows. Their boots are heavy and they have knee pads with curled Celtic designs traced in green. Some of them hold swords, others rifles with glowing Tesseract bullets. All of them lower their gaze as the God-King walks by. 

The SHIELD Agents look small in comparison, heavily outnumbered in their black suits, but somehow keeping their composure. They are unarmed, yet relaxed, smiling, chatting. There is a table of refreshments and they are carrying small plates of finger food and glasses of fruit juice. A few of the waiting staff from last night, looking professional but tired and slightly rumpled, are walked between them, keeping plates and glasses filled. Hawkeye is there, stood at his favourite place by the throne, his eyes blank and disinterested in his former comrades. His bow is slung and his arms are behind his back, but his expression is intense and he looks as if he’s just waiting for the orders to kill them all. The Captain is mingling, smiling, laughing a little too forcefully. The Agents are being polite, but all of them are keeping tabs on him as he moves from person to person. You can almost taste the small circle of tension that follows him around the room. Director Fury is off to one side, keeping his watch and Darcy is sat at the steps leading to the throne, her face avid and awake as she observes everything with a bright, bubbly energy. The blue in her eyes doesn’t suit her at all. 

Laura comes up to meet you as you’re striding down the green carpet. No one has seen you as of yet, the large amount of guards around the elevator hides your arrival, but you feel the sharp tug the God-King gives her mind to call her over. She quickly and professionally falls in step with you, smiling demurely.  
“Mor..ing, Har..y…” You feel her transmit and you smile at her. Her face is a picture of concentration and it looks as if she’s going to try another sentence, but the God-King clicks his fingers imperiously.  
“Update.” He says tersely and she nods.  
“They’re annoyed that you’re late, but still willing to deal. The Captain tried to start a few fights, but between myself, the Director and Darcy, we’ve managed to defuse the confrontations so far.” She says, her voice low. “But I’m glad you’re here, he’s getting more aggressive.”  
The God-King nods.  
“Thank you. And the Director?”  
“As blunt as ever, but…” Laura shrugs. “More than diplomatic.”  
“Good. Does Hawkeye know he is going to be released?”  
“No. He thinks he’s here in case of stragglers. He’s more than willing to kill them all if necessary.” Laura sounds a little upset about that. “Aren’t they all his old friends?”  
“Most of them yes. But I own his heart now.” The God-King stops abruptly and takes her chin. You see the black-eye hidden under her make-up at the same time he does. The God-King exhales in anger. “That was not part last night’s arrangement. I’ll have him whipped.”  
“He said you’d agreed to it…” And Laura’s voice sounds so small for a moment.  
“Well I didn’t. Put it on my to-do list.” And Laura gives him a smile of relief.  
“Of course, Majesty. First thing tomorrow?”  
“You had better believe it. No one does that to my favoured mortal, no one.”  
Favoured mortal? Better than pet, you guess. And it’s good to know that he’s willing to protect her. But still it makes you feel weird, a little disconnected. The way they talk, the way they act, with such familiarity. And you’re still the odd one out. You wonder if you’ll ever be as at ease around him as she is. The God-King strokes her cheek and kisses her chastely on the lips. Laura gives a little, happy sigh. She smiles at him and he smiles back.  
“Now go and announce us.”  
“Yes, Majesty.” 

She walks ahead of you and clears her throat.  
“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I take a moment of your time.” She says loudly enough for her voice to carry. The SHIELD agents stop talking and look over with interest.  
“May I introduce The God-King of the World. Protector and Benevolent Ruler of New York and all Her Principalities. Warrior-King and Master of the United States of America. He who should be Worshipped and Obeyed. He who is Adored by all his Subjects. He who will live outlive us and care for all our children and beyond. The True Owner of Mankind, Who will bring us all True Freedom. The God-King Loki of Asgard.”  
Loki smirks and gives a mocking bow.  
“And may I introduce his Consort, Nathan Drake.”  
Nathan smiles and nods in welcome.  
“And finally. The Youngest Member of our Royal Family. The One who was Lost, but is now Found. Student of Magic and Worthy Apprentice of the God-Kind of the World. The Holiest of Holy. The Child of the God-King.”

Uh… Oh shit. That was all your title? You glance at the God-King and he looks down at you, his smile sardonic. Now, at least you know why everyone calls you “Holy One.” You turn and look at the vaguely baffled SHIELD agents and you smile at them and shrug. The Director’s mouth twitches once to show his amusement before it becomes serious again. The God-King stalks forward and starts to climb the stairs to his throne. He reaches down, running his fingers along Darcy’s jawline and she stands and walks with him. When the God-King sinks into the seat, he spreads his legs and Darcy sits between them, facing out, but touching one of his calves. Her eyes flicker happily as the God-King reaches forward to stroke her hair. Nathan saunters up to the buffet, accepting an orange juice from one of the serving staff and nodding in welcome to the agents next to him. He gestures you over and gives you a glass as well. Laura demurely climbs the steps to the throne room and sits down at her favourite space on the God-King’s right hand side.

“So, enemies of my enemy. What is the order of business today?” The God-King asks.  
“You mean, you’re fifty minutes late and you haven’t even bothered to read the briefing?” The Director asks angrily. He glances at the Captain, who just smirks and shrugs.  
“I am King here.” The God-King tells him imperiously. “I had to deal with my subjects for most of the night and again this morning. I am a busy ruler and I have no time for trivia.”  
“I’m sure you dealt with them one to one.” The Director shakes his head. “May I approach, so we can have a conversation?”  
The God-King nods and gestures him forward. The Director climbs the steps until he’s standing right in from of him. Then they start to talk in quiet tones. 

“So. What do we do?” You ask and Nathan shrugs.  
“Mingle I guess.”  
You look around the room at the SHIELD agents surrounding you. You think you know a few from the Observatory, but you can’t be sure. One of them walks up, all casual disinterest and takes a glass of the apple from one of the serving trays.  
“Nathan Drake, huh?” He says as he lifts the drink to take a sip. “Any well-known ancestors we should know about? Or maybe you’ll want to talk about your archaeological finds?”  
Nathan’s lips twist.  
“Different guy, sorry.” He takes a mouthful of orange juice and then takes some of the finger food. “I’m just an architect.”  
“Architect?”  
“Straight mortal. Human, to you. Just a guy at the wrong place at the wrong time.”  
“With a name like that?”  
“Well, we all need names.” Nathan shrugs.  
“Not all of us.” You mutter and Nathan looks at you.  
He ruffles your hair as you look up at him with a rueful grin on your face.

Another agent walks up, she’s in a pencil skirt and heels. Her make-up is severe, but she looks as fake relaxed as the man beside her.  
“So, your accent isn’t from New York, Nathan. Where you from?”  
“Does it matter? I’m here now.” Nathan smiles at her in welcome. “I came for a big contract, a few of the older buildings needed renovation and they were looking for ideas. I came to give some presentations, hoping that if I couldn’t get the renovation contract I could perhaps get a look in at the new Stark builds.” He shrugs. “Architects go where the building are being built, sugar. And New York is always steady money.”  
“Sugar?”  
Nathan shrugs.  
“Sorry.”  
“No. It’s alright. So how you finding it, being the official Consort of the God-King?”  
“It’s fun. Some days I walk with a limp…” He smiles broadly. “So, question time over?”  
“Sure.” She matches his smile with one just as dazzling.  
Hmmm, charisma wars. This could be interesting.  
You decide to break the moment. 

“Why are you in heels?” You ask. “If it goes bad, they’re a bit impractical, aren’t they?”  
“Well, if things go south in here, we have as much chance as a chocolate teapot on a stove.” She glances at the crowd of blue-eyed guards. “So, I figured I might as well dress for the occasion. Never been in a throne room before.” Her hand slides under her jacket in an unconscious gesture and she sighs angrily. “God, I miss my holster.”  
“You’re all unarmed?”  
“Terms of the agreement.” The male agent shrugs. “And we’re glad to see you survived the evening. And that he let you keep the daggers.”  
“They’re good daggers. Asgardian made. So, he approves of them. Plus y’know…” You glance at the Captain across the room. “I might need them.”  
“So, you’re Asgardian, now?”  
“No.” You shake your head. “But, I seem to have been adopted.”  
The agent smiles.  
“Blessing or curse?”  
You shrug.  
“Not really sure.”  
“He hurt you yet?”  
You look up at him, swallow and don’t say anything.  
“Sure.” The agent nods. “Sure.”  
Nathan’s eyes narrow a little.

“You’re here. You know what this building is. You have an idea what happens here.” Nathan grips your shoulder in solidarity. “He hurts us all one way or another. But you know what?”  
“What?” The man asks.  
“He gives as much as he takes. He’s worth it. He’s worth the pain.”  
“You in love, Mr Drake?” The woman asks and Nathan looks over at the throne where the Director and the God-King are having a heated debate. 

“Yeah. I am.” Nathan turns back and looks her in the eye. “And one day it’ll kill me.”  
“And you’re okay with that?”  
“Choices, miss. We all make choices.” Nathan drains his glass. “I’ve made mine, as has the kid here.”  
“We’ll work to get you out of here. Both of you.”  
“And we don’t want that.” Nathan goes for the pineapple and the waiter disappears to get a new tray. “We don’t need you or what you offer. We’re both where we want to be. These are the beds we’ve made and we’ll damn well sleep in them.”  
“Fair enough.” The man nods. “Can’t really say much. We’re here, after all.”  
“Exactly.” Nathan grins. “All in this shit-storm together.”  
“I want to be here.” You say timidly. “I do.”  
Nathan squeezes your shoulder.  
“Let it all out, Ace.”  
“These people… They’re, they’re my enemy now, right?” You ask uncertainly and Nathan grimaces. “So, what do I say?”  
“Tell them what you’d want your enemies to know.” Nathan replies and you bite your lip, thinking about it. You turn and you look at the male agent. He shrugs and eats some of the finger food.  
“It’s good advice.” He says grudgingly. 

“I want to be here, okay? I fought to be here. I told your Director that I wanted to be here. You don’t get to take me away again.” You decide this is a good place to start.  
“But you’ve been here, what? Twenty-four hours and he’s already harmed you?” The woman asks.  
“And?” You say fiercely. “I’m terrified of him, absolutely terrified. And the Captain makes me want to piss myself. But, but, what’s happening here is important. Really, really important. The fate of humanity is here, right here in this throne room. Right here in this city. And I have to be here. For me, for my people, for… For him…”  
“He needs you does he?” The man asks, his voice a touch sarcastic.  
“I don’t… It isn’t about need. Not mine, not his. We’re connected and it’s a fucked-up relationship, but we are. I ground him and he makes me fly. He shows me my potential and in return he has someone to look after. Someone to teach and train.” Your hands start to glow, you’re pulling power right from air, taking the sunlight touching your skin and converting it without even thinking.  
“Kid…” Nathan says carefully. “Ace…”  
“What can you offer me compared to that? Go on, what?” You snarl.  
The agents take a few wary steps away from you. 

“Wow. Someone’s upset the apple cart.” The Captain saunters over, his gaze fixed on your hands. “Stop it.” He orders you, his voice firm and authoritative. “Now.”  
You back away from him fearfully, into Nathan, and the glow dissipates as you call the energy into your wires. Nathan fingers tighten on your shoulder and you glance at him, scared but also embarrassed.  
You shouldn’t have let them get to you like that.  
Nathan just nods at you in understanding and you let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. You rest your head against his arm and he ruffles your hair again in reassurance.

“Don’t piss off the natives.” The Captain addresses the SHIELD agents as he leans over and takes a plate off the table, he lifts one of the finger foods and looks at it. “Not if you want to get out of here alive.”  
“What has he done to the child?” The woman asks and the Captain grins at her.  
“That’s a pretty skirt. Pretty heels too. Looking to catch someone’s eye?” He asks and she scowls at him. He laughs. “You’ve got the HYDRA data, sweetheart. You tell me.”  
“Sweetheart?”  
“Yeah.” The Captain pops the food in his mouth and swallows after chewing it twice. “You got a problem with that?” He looks her up and down. “I’d be willing to take you down to my apartment after this. We could have a good, long conversation.”  
She bristles, her hand reaching under her jacket to where her gun should be. The Captain watches her, a smile twitching on his lips.  
“You think, even if you were armed, that you could be quick enough?” He asks. “Think your training is better than mine?”  
“Give me a gun. We’ll find out.” She hisses and he grins wide.  
“This one’s a keeper.”  
He winks at her as she scowls.

He turns to the male agent.  
“So, needling the fifteen-year-old and the retard for information?”  
“Fuck you, Cap.” Nathan says, in a quiet, off-hand fashion.  
Nathan keeps the contact with your shoulder, he can feel you trembling again. But you’re not sure if you’re shaking in fear or in anger for the way the Captain talks about Nathan.  
“No way, my friend. But you can use me in your wet dreams, if you like.” The Captain doesn’t even look at Nathan, his tone drips with his contempt. “A fag like yourself probably needs all the imagery he can get. Especially when you’re getting fucked up the ass by a god.” The Captain turns his head to regard Nathan lazily. “Though if you act feminine enough, I might throw you a bone.”  
Now you can feel Nathan shaking too. But with him it’s not fear at all, but a burning rage.  
“You’re not my type. I enjoy someone with wits in my bed. You’d struggle to keep up.”  
The Captain laughs and looks down at his feet. When he looks back up at Nathan, his expression is filled with the promise of violent intent.  
“Well, we wouldn’t be in your bed.” He says, his eyes roaming Nathan’s body with a studied interest.  
“Now who’s dreaming?” Nathan asks, his tone clipped and ready to fight. His body language making it clear that he is not going to back down. 

The Captain pretends to lose interest, he looks down at you.  
“And I see you were doing a piss poor job of keeping the Kid in check.” He says, smoothly changing the topic of conversation. “I ought to report you for letting them get so wound up they almost caused a diplomatic incident.”  
“I was handling it…” Nathan snarls and the Captain walks up, looming over you, his face filled with disapproval.  
“I see you doing anything like that again and I’ll give you the hiding of your life.” He tells you and you shiver backwards. “We clear?”  
“Yes…” You stutter out. “Crystal.”  
“Good.” The Captain looks back up at Nathan. “You keep ‘em contained, or I’ll take them off your hands. Understand me?”  
“The God-King would never…”

The Captain steps forward and pokes his finger hard into Nathans’ chest. The man flinches back in pain, then presses forward again, his face filled with defiance.  
“Do you understand me?” The Captain asks.  
“I understand you’re overstepping yourself, Captain. Again.” Nathan voice is cold. “You looking to get chained to the wall again? Because it could be, fucking, arranged.”  
The Captain glances to the part of the wall where the God-King had interrogated him. You remember it, the chains crackling with magic, Hawkeye being forced to wield the knife.  
You have to break the tension. If no one else is willing to back down, then it has to be you.  
“It’s okay.” You say quickly and with a small, apologetic voice. “I’ll behave. I promise. I’m sorry. It’s just… All of this… It’s been a bit much…”  
The tension ebbs as Nathan breaks eye contact with the Captain to reassure you once again.  
“I know you will, Ace.” Nathan sighs. “It’s okay. I know you will.” His fingers ruffle through your hair again and you press back into his shirt. You’re aware of the two SHIELD agents watching the entire show with a quiet interest. 

The Captain nods at you, but he seems distracted. You can feel it too, a change in the air. The God-King is calling everyone mind-linked to him to attention. The Captain looks over at the throne.  
“Looks like our great leaders have something they want to say.”  
The way that Nathan looks up with surprised interest tells you how much the God-King has let him stay himself. You find that you are mildly jealous. 

The God-King claps his hands and from behind the curtain to the other side of the throne room, around twenty SHIELD agents are led out. The ones he subdued at the silo. They look battered in their SHIELD combat uniforms – which are rumpled but clean. Some of them have old bruises around their faces, while others are nursing slings and bandages. A few brighten when they see the Director, while others look more uncertain.  
“As agreed, I release them to you.” The God-King says and the wave of relief that passes through the prisoners is palpable. They’re herded to the buffet and they start eating and drinking as if they haven’t seen food in a good while. The other agents gather around, welcoming them back and you and Nathan move towards the throne to give them space. The Captain stays where he is, sneering and enjoying the wide berth they give him.

“And now for Darcy.” The God-King gestures for her to stand, while the Director moves to the side. The God-King gestures and the Sceptre appears in his hands.  
“Stand still, my dear.” He tells her and she nods. “Director, be prepared to catch her, the removal of the Sceptre’s hold can be traumatic on the mind. She may well faint or lose her balance.”  
The Director nods and gets in position.  
The God-King leans forward and presses the Sceptre to her chest.  
And you feel the Sceptre tense, you feel a momentary struggle between the God-King and glowing stone. Then the Sceptre sighs and allows Darcy her mind. The blue is drained from her eyes, a physical darkness being sucked back into the metal tip. Darcy gives a soft, broken whimper and crumples, unconscious into the Director’s arms.  
“She’ll need fluids, lots of them and as much reassurance as you can give her.” The God-King says. “Her mind is intact, whole, undamaged. But recovering from the experience fully may take several days.”  
The Director nods. He carefully carries Darcy down the stairs. Two of the waiting staff appear with a wheelchair and help the Director to sit her down. 

“Hawkeye. Attend to me.” The God-King says sharply and the man walks forward. He stands in front of the God-King, then gets to one knee, putting his fist over his chest in the Asgardian way of respect. As his hand falls away, the God-King reaches forward and places the Sceptre to his heart.  
You find yourself unconsciously moving forward. Hawkeye might be kneeling, but if he falls, there’s no one to catch him. You’re aware of Nathan following you as you start to climb the steps.  
Again, you feel the Sceptre tense, but this time there is far more resistance. It doesn’t want to let Hawkeye go. You feel the God-King struggling with it, trying to make it obey. But the Sceptre doesn’t want to obey, it wants to keep Hawkeye for itself. 

You climb the steps faster. 

You hear the Sceptre’s shriek of open defiance and half of the God-King’s guards lower their heads with their hands over their ears. The God-King’s hand shakes as he forces the Sceptre to keep contact with Hawkeye’s chest. You can feel him gathering his will. But you also know that it isn’t enough, that he wasn’t ready for the Sceptre to fight him. The God-King reaches out and draws the blackness from Hawkeye through sheer, brute power.  
The man gasps, the blackness curls in the air, refusing to go back into the tip. It lashes out at the God-King and you feel him slip.

You feel the power of the Sceptre snarl and turn on Hawkeye.  
It bunches ready to strike.  
If it can’t have him then no one can.

And you’re running now and your mind is racing. You reach out blindly, asking for help, any help at all.  
And you are answered.  
From across the space between the Empire State and Stark Tower, the Tesseract reaches out. A barrier flashes into existence between the Sceptre and Hawkeye, just as the blackness strikes to destroy him. As it rebounds from the blue wall, howling and coiling and preparing another salvo, the Tesseract closes around both of you…  
Just as Nathan’s hand grasps your shoulder…  
The world spins, filled with blue. A passage opens, wide and yawning, like the tear that houses the void above New York.  
And you fall into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it's a cliff hanger. 
> 
> Luckily I know exactly what's coming next and I will get it up before the end of the month.  
> You have my word.  
> After that I'm not so sure, I have a massive amount of work for Uni in Feb and March.  
> But I will do my best to be better at updating.  
> It's not fair to keep you guys and gals waiting for so long.


	48. Square One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Kid?”  
> “Nathan?” You choke out his name. “Oh, Nathan. Oh, fuck.”  
> You claw towards his voice and he takes you in his arms, pulling you up and embracing you tightly.  
> “The Big Blue brought us here, all three of us. What happened?” He’s trying to keep his voice even, but you can hear the tense edge to his words. “What did you do?”  
> “The Sceptre was going to kill Hawkeye, I had to do something. I called out for help and the Tesseract answered… Shit…” You try to sit up in his arms, but you can’t, you’re completely drained. You pull yourself upright enough to rest your head on his shoulder as he sits on the floor. He grips the back of your head, rocking you gently. “…I’m so tired, Nathan…”  
> “You controlled it?” And Nathan sounds as if he’s not sure whether to be impressed or scared.  
> “No. I owe it a favour. So, it brought us here to collect it.” You sigh, looking up at the ceiling. Your mind feels soft around the edges. “I don’t think it will let us leave until it gets what it wants.”  
> “And what does it want?”  
> “What we all want.” You say sleepily. You close your eyes and begin to drift. “To get a part of its family back…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long while, I know it has.  
> But Uni is finally reaching its end.
> 
> Also, I took a look at everything I've written since January, as I've been quietly chipping away at this, and I have to say, I have written a *lot* more than I thought I had. It all needs editing, but there are a good few chapters waiting in the wings over the next few weeks. 
> 
> I had a few free hours tonight and I decided to get started with posting it.   
> So here's the first edited chapter for you. There will be more coming soon.

*

You can’t move.  
Your muscles are constricted. You’re not in pain, but you can’t move.  
And your wires are full, brimming with sentient energy.  
And that energy is angry. 

You can feel it entering you mind, sliding in far more easily than the sliver could ever have managed. This is the whole Tesseract and it has eaten other, smaller energies, throughout millennia of existence. You would barely constitute a snack. You feel it slipping into your hind brain, taking your body as easily as your hand could control a glove.  
And then it stops before it subsumes you completely.  
It lets you feel how little you really are.  
It waits until it feels your panic rising.  
And then it begins to speak. 

It wants the sliver back.  
You promised and now you will deliver on that promise.  
Or the Tesseract will eat you.  
“How?” You ask, your teeth gritted. You want to crawl away, to work backwards on your shoulders. To slink away from this intrusion of your body and soul. But the Tesseract has a force-field around your skin, holding you perfectly in place. It pushes deeper into your hindbrain in warning and you whimper. 

The Tesseract can feel the sliver, across the vastness of space, one of the biggest slivers of itself outside of the whole.  
It will make a portal, it will send you there.  
You will enter the room, open the cage, let the sliver out.  
Then the Tesseract will take you both home.  
“The Asgardians will sense that. And… And I don’t know how the cage works…”  
The Tesseract growls.  
“I don’t. You can read me, all of me. I don’t know how it works.”  
**You Promised!**  
“I did. I did. I want to, I do. But I can’t, not yet. I’ll need time to plan, time to work out what to do. And I’m injured, my arm is broken. I need time to heal…”  
The Tesseract looks down at your arm. You feel tendrils testing the breaks. The Tesseract moves your broken bones infinitesimally. Lining them up and joining them back together with such precision that the breaks are almost invisible. You howl with the pain, but you can’t move. 

“Kid? Kid?” Nathan’s voice. You can’t see him. Your eyes are bathed with blue light.  
You can’t answer him either. The Tesseract is allowing you to make sounds of distress, but every time you try to speak it closes around your vocal chords, constricting them.  
Fuck. You must have wires around your vocal chords.  
The thought makes you feel dizzy, your heart pumping hard in your chest.  
“The child’s vitals are spiking.” The voice is calm, British.  
JARVIS. It’s JARVIS. In Stark Tower…  
“And what does that mean?” Nathan asks sharply.  
“That they are in considerable distress. Their brain is showing strange activity as well. With the way the Tesseract is interacting with them…” The voice pauses. “I think they may well be communicating…” 

The Tesseract informs you that it will keep your bones together.  
Held in this way, you will be fully healed within a week.  
Then, you will talk again.  
Then, it will expect answers.  
You whimper as it slides out of your mind, slowly moving out of your wires and removing the energy cage it was using to hold your body still and captive. It leaves the fields around your breaks, a far better cast than anything a hospital could give you. They tighten and solidify around your forearm and remain in the wires next to the broken bones. You won’t need the sling. With the Tesseract’s help, you won’t need anything else. You’ll be able to use your arm normally while it heals. 

“Kid?”  
“Nathan?” You choke out his name. “Oh, Nathan. Oh, fuck.”  
You claw towards his voice and he takes you in his arms, pulling you up and embracing you tightly.  
“The Big Blue brought us here, all three of us. What happened?” He’s trying to keep his voice even, but you can hear the tense edge to his words. “What did you do?”  
“The Sceptre was going to kill Hawkeye, I had to do something. I called out for help and the Tesseract answered… Shit…” You try to sit up in his arms, but you can’t, you’re completely drained. You pull yourself upright enough to rest your head on his shoulder as he sits on the floor. He grips the back of your head, rocking you gently. “…I’m so tired, Nathan…”  
“You controlled it?” And Nathan sounds as if he’s not sure whether to be impressed or scared.  
“No. I owe it a favour. So, it brought us here to collect it.” You sigh, looking up at the ceiling. Your mind feels soft around the edges. “I don’t think it will let us leave until it gets what it wants.”  
“And what does it want?”  
“What we all want.” You say sleepily. You close your eyes and begin to drift. “To get a part of its family back…” 

*

You’re in a bed. It’s warm and comfy and like no bed you’ve ever slept in. This is the King of Beds, the kind you dreamt of owning from the adverts on the television. The sheets are soft and silken. The mattress deep and welcoming. The pillows fluffed and wonderful. You groan as you wake up, wanting to work out what is going on, but at the same time, just wanting to drift back to sleep in this glorious comfort.  
“Are you feeling better?”  
You open a suspicious eye at the disembodied British voice.  
“Mmmmmm.” You answer, non-committal.  
“Mr. Drake didn’t know what to do, so I opened Mr Stark’s bedroom suites. So you and Mr Barton could rest. I am assuming that you are going to be here a while.”  
It might be your imagination, but the voice seems to be full of a dry humour.  
“A week at least.” You agree.  
“How do you come by this figure?” JARVIS asks and you wave your healing arm at him.  
“The blue energy told me.” You mutter. You’re still really, really tired. The Tesseract must have drained you of everything when it left your wires.  
“You can communicate with the Tesseract?”  
“When it wants to communicate with me.” You answer.  
“I see.”  
“I need to sleep a bit longer. Can we talk later?”  
“We can. Sleep well.”  
“Thank you, JARVIS.”  
“You are most welcome.”

*

Still in bed. Still warm and comfy beyond anything you’ve ever experienced before. Billionaires buy the best beds. Even the God-King’s bed isn’t as good as this one.  
“Are you ready to rise yet?” JARVIS asks, politely.  
“Do you ever give someone time to wake up before you bug them?” You ask grouchily.  
“Mr Drake has been asking about you and Mr Barton is up and walking around. They keep requesting updates and they want me to tell them when you are ready to get up. They are worried about you. They asked me to monitor your vital signs.”  
“How very intrusive of them.” You yawn and roll over. “Is there coffee?”  
“Plenty.” JARVIS says. “But no milk. There is still some sugar, however.”  
“Wait.” You remember the upper floors of the tower are blocked off and that is probably where the Tesseract took you. “How are we for supplies?”  
“Mr Stark hated bad news before his morning coffee, so it not within my parameters to say right now.”  
“Great.”  
“Ask me again after your first caffeinated beverage.”  
“I will.” You agree. “Count on it.” 

You shuffle to the wardrobe and find a pair of slippers and a white fluffy bathrobe. They both bury you, as they’re in Mr Stark’s sizes. But better than nothing. A quick enquiry confirms that you were butt-ass naked when you got here. The Tesseract ate your illusionary clothes. JARVIS also confirms that there is nothing in stores that will fit you.  
“I will endeavour to find something that at least approximates your frame.” JARVIS promises. “But until then, you will have to endure Mr Stark’s collection.”  
“Okay.” You shrug. “Thank you, JARVIS.”  
“Always a pleasure.” 

You head to the door and stop dead when you see your daggers hung on a hook behind it, taunting you. Of course they would have made it with you – save for your collar, they were the only non-illusionary thing you were wearing when the Tesseract brought you here.  
And you hadn't even thought about them until now.  
You feel embarrassed and slightly guilty about it. The God-King taught you better than that. You should know where your weapons are at all times and search for them if you awaken and don't know where they are. But you hadn't. Warrior 101 failed. 

You take them down, pull them out and give them a quick check. You note that the two-way receiver SHIELD put in one of the studs has been blown out by the Tessearct travel. Other than that, they are as sharp and combat-ready as ever. Reluctantly, you figure they don't complement your look right now and probably wouldn't be useful. So after the check you hang them back up behind the door for later. 

You put the back of your hand to your mouth as you give a big yawn. You're still massively tired, but also restless and you know you can't go back to sleep.  
You shuffle out into the main room.

*

“Fuck me. It’s a baby polar bear.”  
“Morning to you too, Nathan.” You say grumpily. “The next sentence better come with a cup of coffee, or so help me, I quit.”  
“More like evening.” Nathan walks over and a steaming mug is pressed into your hands. “Come on grumpy, let’s get you some breakfast.” He’s in one of Mr Stark’s suits, it’s not a bad fit at all.  
“Well you look dapper.”  
“It was this or a grease covered t-shirt and sweat pant combo. When I got here all I had on was my towel.”  
“Huh, I didn’t notice.” You sit down and look at the selection of canned fruit on the table.  
“You were pretty out of it.”  
“Yeah.” You pick up a can of pineapple and weigh up its potential for breakfast. “The Tesseract likes to play rough.”  
“Setting out your options?”  
“Pretty much. Do as I say or get eaten, puny mortal.” You put down the pineapple and settle on the fruit cocktail instead, because it has a pull ring, whereas the pineapple needs a can opener and you can’t be bothered.  
“Sounds familiar.” Nathan sits down next to you and picks up his own mug of coffee.  
“Yeah. Same old, same old.” You prise the ring up, but don’t have the strength to lever open the lid. Nathan takes it off you without a word. “Thanks.”  
“No problem.” He opens it with a grimace and then pours it into a bowl. “We’ve got a bit of cream if you want. UHT. Tastes like crap, but it’s good.”  
“No thanks.” You take up a spoon and start to eat. “This is fine.” 

“Man, this is good coffee.” Nathan blows on his drink. “Don’t normally like it black, but this stuff…”  
“The beds are good too.” You agree.  
“Life of a gifted billionaire.” Nathan smiles. “If this wasn’t a prison, I could get used to it.”  
“How’s Hawkeye?”  
“He’s up.” Nathan points a finger towards the ceiling and makes a circular gesture. “He’s around.”  
“Around?”  
“Yup. He hasn’t been still since he was able to walk more than a few steps. I think he’s up on the observatory deck.”  
“You shouldn’t have chased me.” You say, separating out the cherries in the juice. They’re your favourite and you want to enjoy them last. “If you hadn’t have grabbed me, you’d still be in the Empire State.”  
“Well, I guess we need a code word for the next time it happens. You know – ‘I’m about to call the Tesseract to drag me into a wormhole, so keep your distance…’ – Something like that.” Nathan raises an eyebrow at you.  
“Bit long for a code word, and we both swear too often to decide on one of those…”  
“Code word or not, I still would have grabbed you.”  
“I know.” You grin at him. “Because you just can’t help yourself with lost causes.”  
Nathan shakes his head. “Not even going to dignify that with an answer.” 

“But what happened if the Tesseract had decided to drop me in deep space to make Its point? What if it had chosen to protect me and left you to drift?” You ask, a shade grumpily.  
“Never would have happened.” Nathan shakes his head again.  
“No?”  
“No.”  
“Why not?”  
“Because killing me would have stopped you from playing ball. And keeping a mortal around as leverage is always a good idea.”  
“What if I’d ended up somewhere alien and they took you hostage.”  
“Then I guess I’d have made a great Damsel in Distress.” Nathan shrugs grinning. “I could have screamed and batted my eyelashes and everything…”  
“Damn it, Nathan.” You slam the coffee cup down, covering your hand with hot coffee. You hiss and suck at your fingers. “This is serious!”  
“I know, Ace. I know. Everything is really serious right now. Most of it is life or death.” Nathan looks over his coffee at you. “And none of us should have to go it alone.”  
You bite you bottom lip and don’t say anything.

“Hey.” Nathan catches your hand. “I chose to help, okay? I saw something bad about to go down and I chose to come after you.”  
He squeezes your coffee-covered fingers gently.  
“If anything was to happen to you, Nathan. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.” You say softly, pulling your hand away to clean it on the bathrobe. “I’ve lost so many friends lately.”  
“What about me? Am I not allowed to feel the same way about you?” Nathan asks, quietly serious. “That if a kid, who never asked for this, gets in over their head and has no back-up? What kind of man would that make me? If I just left you to face these things alone?”  
“But, Nathan, no offense, but you’re just a guy. Compared to what I’ve faced…” You look at your lap, feeling guilty for putting him down like this. “…You wouldn’t stand a chance.”  
“Well aren’t you the little wonder soldier.” Nathan says sarcastically. “I’m an adult. I make my own choices. And I’m more resourceful than you give me credit for.”

“The God-King would kill me if anything happened to you.” You say, trying to change tack. Nathan picks up on it immediately and shakes his head.  
“No, he wouldn’t. He knows me and he respects and trusts in my abilities.” Nathan tweaks your nose. “As should you.”  
You scrunch your nose and glare at him.  
“Fetching.” Nathan tells you. “Now go find Hawkeye before he walks a groove into the concrete.”  
You nod, pushing your chair back and standing up.  
“You’ll stay here and be safe?”  
“Sure, Ace. I’ll have another cup of coffee and stay pretty for you.” Nathan looks up at the ceiling. “Might even try to make friends with the building.”  
As you head out of the room, you can hear JARVIS patiently explaining to Nathan that he is not actually the building talking. It makes you smile despite yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, it was a short chapter.  
> But the next chapter involves Hawkeye and catching up and a possible daring plan to stave off starvation. So it made sense to cut it here before moving on. 
> 
> I just wanted to thank you for staying with me through this.  
> Even though my breaks might be big sometimes, this fan fic is going to get written.  
> I love you all.


	49. Survival Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “JARVIS…” You ask thoughtfully. “How much of New York can you see from here?”  
> “Almost everything, with a few obvious omissions. The taller building getting in the way and so forth. But I can extrapolate from everything else. Stark Tower is the highest point in New York City and survived the war relatively unscathed. With my external cameras, along with the comparative dearth of tall structures impeding my view, I have mapped most of what has happened in New York since the Asgardian restructuring.”  
> “Can you show us?” Hawkeye asks.  
> “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all. Back to getting some regular updates sorted.
> 
> This was supposed to go up at the beginning of the week, but some of the dialogue gave me a hard time and had to be re-edited a few times before it was right. I'm pretty much editing on the fly at the moment, but there's at least another two chapters written and waiting for my steely, uncompromising editor's hat to be put on.  
> They should be tackled soon.
> 
> Enjoy the update.

*

You walk the stairs to the observatory level of Stark Tower. You could take the lift, but it has too many unpleasant memories and you don't want to go there yet. Hawkeye is stood with his back to you, looking out of the broken window where the God-King had thrown Mr Stark out of his own building at the beginning of the Battle, so very long ago. You can't help but glance at the bar as you walk across the room, reassuring yourself that the Captain isn't leaning against it, lying in wait with a dark smile on his face. 

The room hasn’t changed much since you were here last time. A few things have been moved around, probably recently. All the empty alcohol bottles have been found and lined up as testament to Nathan’s efforts to find something to drink. There’s a quarter bottle of port and a whiskey decanter with a few shots in it at most. They look a little lost and forlorn against the rows of empty glass on the black marble counter. 

Hawkeye doesn’t move as you approach, he doesn’t say anything. His eyes are scanning the city below, watchful and inscrutable. His arms are clasped behind his back, his feet shoulder-width apart, his bow and arrows resting against the window frame. He’s still wearing his leather armour, his arms bare, his body relaxed but prepared.  
“Hey.” You say quietly as you approach, not wanting to startle him out of his reverie.  
“Hey.” He replies and you know he’s been tracking you since you entered the room. He looks focused on the panorama below, but he is also spatially aware of his surroundings.

“What’cha looking at?” You ask flippantly. You step up beside him. The city’s spread out below you, all low housing and scaffolding. Only a few buildings are tall now, the Empire State and a few others that somehow escaped the devastation. But they look empty and unused. It’s getting dark, but none of the windows are lighted in the taller structures. You figure that they might be too unsafe, or reserved for other purposes. But it’s good to see the mass of electric light spreading out as far as the eye can see. A city coming to life again. The Empire State glows, a beacon of the God-King’s might over everything else. You wonder if Stark Tower is often lighted, if people are looking up at you right now and wondering at the lit observatory. An indication that something might be happening that the city isn't ready for. 

“Resources.” Hawkeye replies, his tone clipped and professional, making you blink and come back to the present.  
“Though how we’re going to get to them, I don’t know.” He continues, sighing and there’s a mountain of relief in that simple sound. “Still, it’s good to be looking out without a tint of blue obscuring everything… …God, my head hurts…”  
You touch his arm and he looks down, his expression softening a little. 

He moves so fast you squeal, taking you by the waist and lifting you, spinning you around, a smile wide on his face. He hugs you close, his head against your mid-drift, your hands on his shoulders. He exhales softly.  
“Thank you.” He says, his voice filled with gratitude. You give a little, happy laugh.  
“You’re welcome.”  
He shifts you easily. He might be mortal, but he’s strong. He sits you on his shoulder, your legs supported by his upper arm. He helps you sort out the bathrobe so that it’s comfortable again then turns, looking back out across New York.  
“We need supplies, if we’re going to stay here more than a few days.”  
“A week.” You tell him. “We’re going to be here for at least a week.”  
“Then we need to get more food. The water still runs, JARVIS has several large water tanks and the Tesseract formed around the pipes not through them, so the taps work.” 

“When the war broke out I made it a priority to start Mr Stark’s siege protocols.” JARVIS’s voice chimes in from the open air. “There is enough water for six months, all clean and drinkable and another tank for washing and so on, that isn’t quite as pure.”  
“But drinkable if need be?” Hawkeye asks.  
“With boiling, yes. And I have a store of water purification tablets if that is not enough.”  
“Got to give it to Stark, once he got his head right, he became one hell of a forward planner.” Hawkeye says with approval.

“Unfortunately, things went to chaos far faster than we were prepared for. Stark Tower is relatively new, so the plans weren't completed in time for this scenario. The food stores are not robust and we had no time to fortify them. I was able to secure the water before the system went down, but I only have the food we ordered in advance and precious little in storage. Mr Selvig ate most of it when he became trapped here. You came and liberated him just in time, though I wish I could have served him better than I did.”  
“He’s well fed in the Empire State.” You say, feeling that JARVIS needs some sort of reassurance.  
“I am glad to hear it.” JARVIS says. “I must say I was concerned to release him into Loki’s care.”  
“But what choice did you have?” You say shrugging.

“Several, actually. But Mr Stark vetoed all of them. He would not allow me to stop the Asgardian madman, nor save him and Mr Selvig from his malicious intent.”  
“This tower was Tony’s fortress.” Hawkeye explains. “Designed to hold out against any intruders for a long, long time.”  
“Then why didn’t you stop the Tesseract being placed here?” You look up at the ceiling. You know it’s stupid – that JARVIS is everywhere – but it seems the right thing to do when talking to him.  
“Loki used several attacks against me, spells, apparently, which confused my sensor array. By the time I had isolated and created strategies to defeat them he was already in the observatory. Luckily, I was functioning again just in time to save Mr Stark from his fall. But by then, the Tesseract was fully awake, my protocols were still in disarray and the war was breaking out.” JARVIS sounds mildly irritated. “The attacks, however, are now logged in my systems and solutions found. I will not be lacking the next time I am called into service.”  
“Good.” Hawkeye nods. “I’m glad to hear it.” 

“JARVIS…” You ask thoughtfully. “How much of New York can you see from here?”  
“Almost everything, with a few obvious omissions. The taller building getting in the way and so forth. But I can extrapolate from everything else. Stark Tower is the highest point in New York City and survived the war relatively unscathed. With my external cameras, along with the comparative dearth of tall structures impeding my view, I have mapped most of what has happened in New York since the Asgardian restructuring.”  
“Can you show us?” Hawkeye asks.  
“Of course.” 

A table in the centre of the room lights up. A hologram projection field flickers into life and before long there is a 3D construction of old New York glittering blue on the surface. Hawkeye walks over, still carrying you easily on his shoulder. You don’t complain, you like the view.  
“I apologise if this is upsetting, but I am going to run the timeline from the battle, to the present day, just to give you an idea of what has happened and how things have been rebuilt. I feel that both of you will appreciate the extra information.”  
“I would.” Hawkeye agrees. “I was on strictly need-to-know on almost everything.” He looks at you. “Are you okay with it?”  
“Yeah, I guess.” You swallow uncertainly. “I mean, I’ve seen worse, right?”  
“Would you like me to call up Mr Drake?” JARVIS asks.  
“Might as well.” Hawkeye sounds reluctant. “He is an architect after all, he might have a different take on it all.”  
“Very well.” 

* 

“Kid?”  
“Yeah?”  
Hawkeye pauses for a moment, his eye roaming the holographic depiction of New York.  
“What do you think about Nathan?”  
“I like him. He’s a nice guy, a good guy.”  
Hawkeye nods thoughtfully.  
“You trust him?”  
“Yes.” There isn’t any hesitation and Hawkeye looks up at you with surprise.  
“Why?”  
“Because he’s got principles and he’s, he’s really nice…” You trail off.  
“Right.” Hawkeye looks down at the table again. “What’s he got on you?”  
“Nothing.” You sigh. “I’m just rubbish at explaining.” You bite your lip thinking. “Why? Don’t you like him?”

“He’s an easy guy to like.” Hawkeye says after a moment's pause. “Which makes me suspicious. I mean he’s Loki’s lover, right?”  
“So?”  
“Well, where do his loyalties lie? And if he’s so easy to like, if he’s so nice, then why settle for that Asgardian…” You hear the curse word Hawkeye mentally censors for something more polite. “...Dictator…”  
“He loves him.” You say simply and Hawkeye shakes his head.  
“So, we can’t trust him.”  
“It’s not like that. Nathan knows it’s messed up. As much as we do. He knows he’s being tricked by his heart… But…”  
“But…?”  
“He accepts it. I honestly think the God-King loves him back. Or at least likes having the excuse to give in once in a while without looking weak.”  
“You've seen him give in?” His eyes flicker to your face.  
“Yes.” You say and Hawkeye gives you a measured look and then nods, looking back at the table.  
“All I ever see is him kicking Nathan’s ass for talking back.” He says thoughtfully.  
“Well, you’ve only ever seen them in public.” You say and Hawkeye reaches out to the table, running his fingers through the simulation. The walls flicker and shimmer around his fingers as he pushes them through the top stories of the Empire State, his expression unreadable.  
“All right.” He says eventually as he withdraws his hand. “If you vouch for him, then we’re cool.”  
“I do.”  
“Okay.” Hawkeye nods, breathing out heavily. “Okay.” 

“So, what was it like…” You ask tentatively. “Being, y’know… Uhm, Blue…”  
“Ask me later. It isn’t that I don’t want to answer, I just… It’s a bit messed up in my head right now.”  
“Hard to process?”  
“Yeah.” Hawkeye narrows his eyes. “The longer you’re under the harder it is to work out where you were, in your head. Because you sure weren’t in the driving seat.”  
He pauses thinking.

“It’s like this big… I don’t know… Intelligence? It reaches into your brain and uses your body and your skills and…” His eyes flicker to his feet and then back to the table. “But you’re still there, you’re still walking and fighting and whatever. But it’s not you giving the commands. It’s something else using you as a middleman to achieve its own goals…”  
“Natasha got you out. She traded for you. A berserker staff at the wedding.”  
“She did?” Hawkeye smiles. “Gotta love Nat. How is she?”  
“Working with SHIELD, keeping the hell away from New York.”  
“She always was smart.”  
“She trained me, taught me a few bits and pieces.” You look down at him. “Got me out of Sokovia.”  
“Sokovia? What’s in Sokovia?”  
“HYDRA.”  
Hawkeye stiffens.  
“Yeah. I kinda remember that. Loki mobilising for something in Eastern Europe. But he didn’t involve me so I never asked.”  
“Need to know?”  
“Always.” Hawkeye gives a small snort of contempt. “The Blue made me a good little soldier. Focussed, intense, but not very inquisitive.”  
You both go quiet for a moment.

“What does it do to you? I mean everyone seems to act differently under it. You’re all tied to the God-King, but…” You sigh. “I mean you and the Captain, you were different people. Even under the Blue, you had different priorities and attitudes…”  
“It brings out the worst in you…” Hawkeye stops. “No, that’s not right… It, it doesn’t bring out anything at all, but cuts things away. It doesn’t make you into anything. Everything is already there in your head…” He rubs the edge of the table in a distracted fashion. “But... You know how you think bad thoughts, things that you would never really do?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Well instead, this Thing, this Intelligence decides to go with it. And it takes away all your guilt at the same time.”  
“Handy.”  
“Yeah.” Hawkeye snorts. “Not so good now that I’m free… But…”  
“It wasn’t you…” You start to say but he cuts you off.  
“Yeah, it was, it was all me. But not the nice bits. I wasn’t allowed the good parts, just the bad.”  
“So, you didn’t have control.” You say heatedly and he nods.  
“I know.” He says. “It’s why I’m still here and not out the window.” He sighs. “That and..”  
“What?”  
“Doesn’t matter.” He looks away. “Forget it.”  
You nod.  
“Okay. Maybe later. Or not. We’re allowed our secrets, right?”  
“Right.” 

“Hey kids.” You both turn at Nathan walking up the steps, his hands in his pockets. “Good to see you bonding like grown-ups.”  
You and Hawkeye exchange a look.  
“So, what do we have here?” Nathan walks up to the table.  
“You’re the architect, you tell me.” Hawkeye says and Nathan studies the hologram.  
“New York, BBNY.”  
“BBNY?” You ask.  
“Before the Battle of New York.” Hawkeye supplies for you.  
“Oh.” You consider. “So, what’s it called after?”  
“Generally referred to as ‘The Reign’ or TR for short.” Nathan starts walking around the table, his hands still in his pockets.  
“Terror?” You say.  
“No. T-R, but I guess, yeah.” Nathan shrugs. “There's probably people who call it that when they're not being overheard.”  
“Should I begin the simulation?” JARVIS asks.  
“Sure.” Hawkeye nods. “Why not?” 

Nothing happens for around thirty seconds and you’re about to make a comment about it when the first building falls. Your stomach falls with it. You hadn’t expected it to hit you this hard, but it’s like being punched in the gut. You reach out, ruffling Hawkeye’s hair for reassurance. He looks at you sideways and takes your hand, holding it reassuringly.  
“Not the hair, kid.” He says, flattening it back in place.  
“Sorry.” You see the first impact on Howard Apartments and you give a small whimper. “That, that’s my floor…”  
Nathan glances at you.  
“That when you got pulled into this?” He asks.  
“It was the start of it… My parents died, but I didn’t. I was in a different room…”  
_Your dad is screaming, bleeding out. You want to get help, but you know no help is coming…_  
“I think this was a mistake…” You say weakly.  
“How about we skip the immediate destruction, hey JARVIS?” Hawkeye asks. “It’s the rebuild we want, after all.  
“As you wish, Mr Barton.”  
The simulation begins to speed up. 

You watch the shockwave hit and the Tesseract expanding, the building you were next to falling down. You unconsciously feel one of the scars on your forearm. A testament to what actually happened. To the reality of the simulation in front of you, real damage and all.  
“It’s hard to remember what it was like before.” Nathan says, still circling. “I mean, I remember a lot of these building by wrote. I studied half of New York before the battle, but…” He shakes his head. “It’s weird how the mind adjusts, y’know?”  
“Yeah.” Hawkeye agrees. “How soon things become normal…”  
The buildings stop falling. The simulation is still moving quickly but the battle must have finished. Then another ten get taken down in rapid succession.  
“Now we’re on to the weakened structures falling by themselves, afterwards. A few days afterwards.” Nathan points to one. “That was a controlled explosion. Structurally unsound and far too close to one of the Pens. I know, I was drafted to help. The rebuild will start soon enough.” Nathan glances at the black marble counter with it's rows of empty decanters. “Either of you want a drink?”  
“Nathan, pay attention. We need you for this.” Hawkeye frowns at him.  
“Sure. JARVIS, pause it a minute?”  
“As you wish.” 

Nathan goes over to the counter. He grabs the port and a clean glass.  
“So, what are we doing here?” He asks walking back. “Why are we watching this?”  
“We need to see how Loki started the rebuild. So we can work out where we might be able to hit for supplies.” Hawkeye tells him.  
“Supplies?”  
“Food, Nathan.” Hawkeye eyes the decanter. “Not alcohol.”  
“What do you take me for?” Nathan casually pours himself half a glass and puts the bottle on the corner of the hologram, making the buildings shimmer around it.  
“We’re going to be here for a week, at least.” You tell him.  
“And those cans downstairs on the counter are the last.” Hawkeye says. “Not enough for three. Not if we need to be in the middle of the action after a waiting period. We need to be at our peak and that means we need to be well fed for the wait.”  
“After the week, the Tesseract is going to get us to do something for it, in return for our freedom.” You say and they both go quiet, exchanging uncertain looks. 

“Do you trust it?” Nathan asks, eventually. “To let us go, I mean?”  
“I do.” You nod. “It’s a dick, but it keeps its word. It doesn’t have any reason to lie. Or to hurt us if we do what it wants.”  
“What does it want?” Nathan looks at you, taking a sip of the port.  
“Later, okay? I’ll tell you both later. One plan at a time.”  
“Sounds good.” Hawkeye agrees. “Stay on mission.”  
“Should I continue?” JARVIS asks and Nathan raises his glass.  
“Sure, why not.”

There are a few more demolitions and then things start to change. Obvious human habitations start to spring up, small huts mostly but soon developing into scaffolds and small houses. The small houses become bigger, more like apartment blocks, walls being removed and extensions being made, rather than whole structures being taken down again.  
“This is only a few months of work.” Nathan says. “Normally construction takes longer, but when you don’t need planning permissions and everyone is chipping in… Well, things grow fast.”  
“Here.” Hawkeye points off to a few new structures being built off site from the main Pens. “What are these?”  
“I don’t know.” Nathan comes around to have a look. “I haven’t seen these on the map before.”  
“What, you haven’t walked around New York checking stuff out?” Hawkeye asks.  
“Sometimes.” Nathan shakes his head. “But when these were being put up, I was still being held captive on the Harem level. And I’m mostly escorted around, I don’t get to wander.”

“Look.” You say, pointing to the excavation appearing nearby.  
“That’s a big hole.” Hawkeye agrees.  
You all watch in silence as the construction gets placed, piece by piece into a vast underground complex. Nathan sips at the port occasionally, his eyes not leaving the projection.  
“There’s another one.” Hawkeye points across the map to almost the other side of the city.  
“What do you think they are?” You ask and both men go quiet for a minute.

“Could be stock rooms.” Nathan says thoughtfully. “I mean there isn’t enough ventilation if it was going to be prison blocks. There’s enough airflow for controlled environmental temperatures, but if it was more than a few people, they’d suffocate quickly.”  
“So probably not labs, then, either.” Hawkeye raises his voice to open up the conversation. “JARVIS, what do you think?”  
“They look like underground bunkers. But Mr Drake is correct. There is not enough provision for people.” The city flickers out for a minute so that the main bunker can be enlarged. “I can extrapolate that, at first, the city was finite in its resources. But after the executions were conducted to quell the populace and once the war effort started to gain traction… Well, there would be more food and supplies than was needed flowing back to the main base of operations.”  
“So, the God-King is making sure that there are back-up supplies, in case of emergency?” You ask.  
“It would appear so.” JARVIS agrees. “But without radar or ultrasound surveillance of the area, my abilities to predict what might be down there are limited.”  
“And how would we get there, anyway?” Nathan asks. “With the Big Blue cutting us off from the world?”  
“I might be able to answer that.” You say thoughtfully. “Hawkeye, could you put me down?”  
“Call me Clint, Kid.” He says affably. He puts you gently onto the ground. 

You readjust your bathrobe and then head out to the garden area of the observatory. Above you, the machine that houses the main Tesseract cube flows with blue energy. You climb the steps and walk over to it. A blue wall appears, blocking your way.  
“Oh, come on.” You say testily. “I just want to talk to you.”  
The wall curls around you, stopping you moving forward and cutting you off from the outside world.  
“Fine.” You sigh. “Whatever makes you feel comfortable.”  
You press your palm against the blue surface of your imprisonment and the Tesseract enters you willingly. 

You put the map of New York in your head, focussing on the two excavation sites.  
“Where are you in all this?” You ask it. “I know the God-King has been using Tesseract powered bullets, like HYDRA do. I’ve seen them.”  
The Tesseract super-imposes its pieces over the map in your head. One of the underground bunkers glitters with millions of tiny lights, the other one only has a few rooms that glow, but those glowing parts are much bigger and brighter.  
“Okay, so one of the bunkers is an armoury. The other one, not so much.”  
You focus on the second one, the one with just a few big lights. “What can you tell me about it?”

The Tesseract considers.  
Then it sends you a memory.

Images of the God-King entering Stark Tower and using the Sceptre to travel to the observatory deck. The elevator is full of people carrying electronic-looking boxes. Each one is about the size of a toaster and seems to weight very little, as each person is carrying several.

The Tesseract fights back, lashing out from self-created gaps in its forcefield to kill the intruders. It will not allow itself to be taken away, to be split and syphoned off. Three of the men die, turning blue with Tesseract energy and then disintegrating… But it isn’t enough, the God-King is stronger. He knows how to wield the Sceptre, how to control it. 

The God-King traps the Tesseract, stopping it from creating new energy surges and preventing it from closing the gaps it created to lash out at the three men. He uses the Sceptre to pry the gaps wider and he and the men walk through.

He takes what he wants by force, the Tesseract energy surging through the Sceptre and into each box in turn. Blue light flowing across the air and into the devices. They begin to pulse as they fill with charge. It doesn’t hurt, not in the way a human could understand pain. But the loss, the feeling of loss is terrible. 

“So why don’t you take it back? If it’s all still in New York?”  
Images flicker in answer.

The bullets are designed to be glass containment units. They hold the Tesseract inside until the bullets shatter. The image shivers and you're viewing the world from inside one of the bullets. You can see the magic runes imprinted onto the clear surface. The Tesseract can feel the energy inside the bullet, can even communicate with it, but it cannot touch it. It physically cannot get by the magical ward. It cannot reclaim the tiny piece of itself trapped inside.

Once free, once the bullet breaks, the energy within isn’t strong enough to hold together. When it hits a person the piece starts to dissolve, to lose itself to entropy. It tears into its victim, trying to regain its whole, to gather enough to survive. But it can’t, the human body doesn’t have enough energy for the tiny piece to sustain itself. Even as it dissolves the flesh of the person, disintegrating their bodies to ash, it continues to burn-out its essence into the atmosphere. Within a second it is gone, dissipated, lost forever.  
Worse still is when the bullet misses. Then the Tesseract piece dies screaming and curling into itself, cannibalising it's own energy until there is nothing left. It's life even shorter, mere moments of agonising existence as it tries to sustain itself with the only energy it has available.

The Tesseract tries to reach into these bullets, to save its whole, but the containment is too strong. What holds the pieces in, keeps the Tesseract out. Until the containment is damaged, the Tesseract cannot reclaim itself and when the bullet is fired, the Tesseract cannot reach out quickly enough to save its piece before it consumes itself.  
Frustration.  
Fear.  
Entropy.

“That is happening to us. Or is going to happen to us, really soon. There isn’t enough energy here for us to consume. We’re going to be too weak to help you, if you don’t help us.”  
The Tesseract asks you to go to Asgard now. Before you become too weak.  
“I’m still injured. Hawkeye is still recovering. And Nathan, well he needs to know what the plan is and I don’t have one yet. We’re all just mortal, going up against Asgardians. We need a plan and that’s going to take some time.”  
The Tesseract growls.  
“Threaten me all you want, but you know it’s true.”  
The Tesseract offers to give you some of its energy, as a show of faith.  
“That won’t work. I mean, it might for me, with the wires and stuff. But my friends are completely mortal. They need to get their energy like normal people. That means food.”  
The Tesseract rages.  
You wait for it to calm down.

“So…” You say once the anger has burnt itself out. “How can you help us?”  
The Tesseract considers.  
“I mean a piece of you, outside the whole can be used to make a portal between the two places, right? Like a doorway...?”  
The Tesseract does the equivalent of waving you to be silent while it thinks.  
“Okay. I’ll wait.”

“Kid?” You turn at Nathan’s voice. Both him and Clint are stood outside, looking at the forcefield around you with worry.  
“It’s okay. We’re just having a conversation.”  
“We can see it going into your palm…” Clint says uncertainly. “Like, really bright blue flowing light… You sure you’re okay?”  
“It’s how we talk. It gets in my wires and then we kinda… I don’t know, think together?” You bite your lip. “It’s hard to explain…”  
“Okay, what I took from that was ‘in my wires.’ I think I’d like that to be explained first, before anything else.” Clint says and Nathan nods.  
“Seconded.”  
“Later, okay? This is all way too complicated for right now.”  
The Tesseract nudges you impatiently.  
“Got to go. The Big Blue wants to talk.”

This is the plan.  
There will be no deviation from this plan.  
“Okay.” You agree. “Got it. What’s the plan?”  
The Tesseract will fill you with its energy.  
Then it will reach out to the large pieces of itself in the second underground structure to create a portal, which you and your friends can travel through. The Tesseract will shield you from its energies. None of you will be harmed.  
“Okay.” You agree and the Tesseract growls.  
It is not finished.  
“I’m still listening.”  
The Tesseract will use the energy stored inside of you to create a forcefield around the building. No one will be able to get in or out during your time there. If you try to escape the Tesseract will eat your friends, tear out their energy and turn them into dust.  
“We won’t try to escape.” You tell it. “We just need food.”  
The Tesseract asks how much you will require.  
“Give me a minute.”  
You look back to the men watching you. 

“How much food will we need?” You ask Clint.  
“Well at least a week for three people. I mean it might be much longer than a week, right? If we need time to get a plan together?”  
“It’s possible, though Big Blue will get pissy if we don’t have a good reason…” You say, biting at your bottom lip.  
“Well, other people might get trapped up here in the future.” Nathan says, looking at Clint. “I mean, we can’t rule that out, right? If we were brought here by the Blue, then it might happen to someone else at some other point in the future.”  
“There are rucksacks.” JARVIS cuts in helpfully. “And I could activate a few of Mr Stark’s suits to aid the venture.”  
The Tesseract growls at that idea.  
You wince.  
“The Blue says no suits. It wants you to stay inactive JARVIS…” You sigh. “…Sorry.”  
“No, it’s quite alright.” JARVIS sounds disappointed, all the same. “But how does the Tesseract expect you to bring back more than the three of you can carry, if not using the suits?”  
You turn back to the Tesseract.  
“That's a good question.”

The Tesseract considers.  
It thinks you are all very wasteful creatures, to need so much fuel for such small bodies.  
“Yeah, we’re not the best design.” You agree. “But it’s what we’ve got.”  
The Tesseract will put more energy into you, more than is needed for the forcefield. The Tesseract's energy is so efficient that all the power will fit into you neatly, far more energy in a far smaller space than you inefficient creatures could manage.  
“I get it, we’re rubbish.” You say sighing. “What’s the plan?”  
You will collect what you need in neat piles. You will cover the piles with a thin layer of Tesseract energy. You will mark it to be taken. Then the Tesseract will open another portal around it and move it here. The layer will protect the items long enough for them to arrive.  
“You can do that?”  
The Tesseract gives the impression that it doesn’t like doing it, but it can happen, if the need is great.  
“Okay.” You send it thoughts of gratitude. “Thank you.”

The Tesseract wants more if it is going to help you this this way. It will require a lot of energy to retrieve the piles of supplies. In recompense, it wants you to take back the big pieces of energy from the building. It wants you to bring them back and return them to the whole.  
“No. I won’t do that. They're part of the God-King’s plan. He’d be angry.”  
The Tesseract indicates that refusing would make it angry and you are trapped here.  
“Yeah well…” You shrug. “Sorry, but we both have the same master. You shouldn’t cross him either. I’m not going to piss him off for you.”  
But the Tesseract wants the pieces back.  
“Yeah and I want to be on a beach somewhere far away from here, never having heard of you or the God-King, with both my parents and a bank account in six figures. But none of that is going to happen, either.”  
The Tesseract doesn’t like your tone.  
“Well, I don’t like your greed. We’re already helping you. We’re already going to go all the way to fricking Asgard to get a piece back for you. We’re already risking everything because you’ve called in your favour and I'm willing to pay you back, even though I'm not ready, or really in the right position to do so. If the God-King gets angry, then he isn’t going to put up with this. He’ll do everything in his power to put you in your place. I am not going to antagonise him.”  
The Tesseract considers your argument.

You wait patiently for its answer.  
It deliberately takes longer than it could possibly need to arrive at a decision.  
Still you wait patiently. 

The Tesseract agrees, grudgingly, to your terms.  
“Okay.” You nod. “Now let me go, so I can sit down and tell the others what’s happening.”  
The Tesseract pulls out of your wires and the forcefield drops. But it leaves a piece behind for the task ahead. You can feel it buzzing around your body.  
“Kid?” Nathan steps forward.  
“I’m okay. It’s going to be fine. Let’s go get some more coffee and I’ll explain everything.”  
Clint nods.  
“Sounds good. Let's go.” 

*

“So the wires are because of me?” Clint says in a voice flat with anger, after a long hour of explanation.  
“No.” You shake your head. “They are because of the God-King.”  
“But they wouldn't be there at all, if you hadn't made a deal to save me and Natasha.” Clint presses you. He sounds so angry and a little lost. Full of guilt for what you've been through.  
You furrow your brow.

“It's not your fault. It was never your fault.” You say heatedly. “I made the choice, not you.”  
“Kid...” Clint shakes his head. “Loki manipulated you into it. He knew you cared for me and Nat and he used that against you. You thought you had a choice, but you never did. And I should have... I should have found a way to protect you...”  
“How?” You ask. “When I made the deal you were as screwed as I was. The God-King had me by his side and the Chitauri had you surrounded. There was no way we were getting out of that, unless I tried to do something... Anything...”  
“Kid...”  
“Sure, he manipulated me.” You say over him, loudly. “But I let him do it. What was I supposed to do? It was your only chance – our only chance. He was going to kill me. He was toying with me, letting me watch you die. Then he'd probably have given me to the Chitauri as a gift. They were after kids going through puberty at the time and I was a good candidate for that...” You sigh, looking away, just as angry, just as frustrated. “What happened, happened. But you, me and Natasha are all still alive to be mad about it. So it paid off, as far as I'm concerned.”

“The Kid has a point.” Nathan says into the ensuing silence. He finishes his coffee, and squints into the cup as if wishing for more. “None of us had much wriggle room, but here we are. Players in the game rather than full victims of it. So we've done alright, all things considered.”  
Clint sits back, slamming his hands on the table in frustration and then tapping out a rhythm as he tries to find the words for his feelings.  
“Being under the Blue sucks.” Nathan says bluntly. “I should know. The degrading shit I've let the Prince do to me, just to avoid it...”  
“I'm sorry you had to go through it.” You say to Clint. “I'm sorry I couldn't save you sooner...”  
“Kid...” Clint says, trailing off. “Don't, okay... Just... Just don't...” 

Nathan stands in the awkward silence, lifting his hand, offering to take your cup for a third refill. You think about it and then nod and give it to him. Clint raises his hand in the negative and Nathan heads to the percolator with just the two cups.  
“You two need to think about the positive.” He says as he starts to empty the machine for a new batch. “I mean look at you. Both alive and strong and well. Both able to make a difference.” He points at Clint. “What you did was bad, I agree with you there. But what you did before it was good, very good. You fought the good fight and you ended up in a no-win situation because of it. But now you've survived it and you can do good again. Because of what happened, you now have a second chance.”

He refills the machine with water and fresh coffee grounds and starts it up again.  
“And look at you, Kid.” He grins at you. “Sure you're full of weird alien wiring, but the stuff you can do with it? The Prince can't totally control that, because you're Gifted and you're self-aware. Sure he can steer it, manipulate it towards his goals, but the wires give you an edge and power over your own life that you never would have had before.”  
“What were you in another life? A motivational speaker?” Clint asks dryly and Nathan shrugs.  
“I've always tried to see things for what they are.” He says simply. “Like both of you, I'm a born survivor.” 

“I mean you might not know it, Kid, but when you get going you have a natural charisma that would put Tony Stark at his camera-ready best to shame.” Nathan pours the coffee and heads back, handing you a full mug.  
“What?” You frown.  
“It's true.” Clint agrees. “You dissemble very well and you have the whole innocence thing going for you.” He crosses his legs, one foot relaxed over his knee as he grips his ankle.  
“It helps that you're short as well.” Nathan adds, leaning on the table and taking a mouthful of coffee. He gestures with the mug. “And super skinny. And you know how to use it for maximum sympathy.”  
“Are you guys appraising me?” You ask, narrowing your eyes at them in a comical fashion.  
“What?” Nathan looks confused.  
“Natasha?” Clint asks, raising an eyebrow.  
“Natasha.” You agree.  
Nathan rolls his eyes.  
“A new super spy in the making.” He says dryly.

“Okay.” You sip at the coffee. “I've got something to show you guys.”  
You stand, still holding the cup. You're not really sure if it's the Tesseract or the coffee that's making your head buzz, but it feels good all the same. It feels good to be doing something again. To have another proper puzzle to solve. To have a plan of action.  
You walk over to the hologram.  
“JARVIS, you mind bringing up the second underground place again?”  
“Of course.” The map of the building structure appears. You look at it for a moment.  
“I'm going to add an overlay, if you don't mind?”  
“Whatever will help us in this endeavour.” You can imagine JARVIS shrugging.  
You reach out with you palm and place it next to the 3D image. You ask the Tesseract to help you. A little bit of blue jumps from you and into the picture. The building flickers, shimmers, breaks apart and then pulls back together with a stronger, pulsing construction, under-lighted with a deep, glowing blue. 

“Well, won't you look at that...” Nathan says. “Pretty.”  
Clint glances down at you.  
“What are we looking at?”  
“Where the Tesseract energy is in the bunker.” You point to the pulsing spheres of light in the larger rooms. “The God-King is storing some of the Blue to turn it into bullets. The finished product is in the other one, in the other building.”  
“So the first structure is an armoury and this one is storage?” Clint asks.  
“So more likely to have food and other essentials.” You say, pointedly.  
“This is all guesswork.” Nathan says. “We don't have any idea what's down there . If he is storing Blue energy in there, there's no guarantee that it won't just be some sort of vault with nothing else inside, other than a workshop or something...”  
“It's the only lead we have.” Clint sighs. “If there's nothing there, then there's nothing there. But nothing ventured, nothing gained.”  
“The Tesseract will just bring us back, and get pissy at me and then we'll work something else out.” You shrug. “I have enough of the Big Blue in me that it can just lock on and make the portal again so we can come back here.”

“Could you use the energy you've got to portal us somewhere else?” Nathan asks. “You know, lock on to somewhere else in the city and...”  
“I know what you're asking, but no.” You shake you head. “If we were half a world away and I was by myself and I had time to work it out... I don't know, maybe. But we're too close to the whole Big Blue here, it'd over-power anything I did and then we'd all be in trouble.”  
“Okay.” Nathan nods. “It was worth the ask. So when are we going?”  
“When we're ready.” You shrug. “The Tesseract can do it at any point from now.”  
You both look at Clint. He looks out of the window.  
“Well, we're all awake, it's very late in the night, so we'll have the element of surprise... And if this is a dead end, we need to know as soon as possible, as we've only got a few meals left.”  
He looks back at the hologram.  
“JARVIS, where are those rucksacks? Time to get this show on the road.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's the plot done and the next update is going to be a whole chapter of action.  
> Unfortunately action is a pain in the backside, so, while it's all written, it's going to give me a hard time with the editing.  
> You know, unless I had one of those rare golden moments while writing it, where it all slotted into place first time.  
> I haven't read it yet, not since the first-draft, but in my experience this is probably unlikely. 
> 
> Anyhow, I'm back in the game and behind the keyboard, so it's on it's way. 
> 
> Thanks for all the Kudos and the comments. They always brighten my day.


	50. The Provisions of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh fuck.” Nathan says softly. “Oh fuck.” He moves on the spot, deliberately trying to psyche himself up.  
> “Come on.” You give him a reassuring smile. “We're going to be fine.”  
> He nods at you wordlessly.  
> “Hey.” You say softly, grinning. “You need the warning sentence, so you're ready?”  
> “What?” Nathan frowns. “The – 'I’m about to call the Tesseract to drag me into a wormhole, so keep your distance…’ warning we agreed on?”  
> “Sure.” You nod.  
> “I think I'm braced for it this time.” He says dryly and you can see his confidence returning. He steps forward toward the wide, circular opening. His hair looks strange, plastered to his scalp by the forcefield while the wind shrieks around him and lightening flickers across his body. A static figure in a whirlwind of ancient power. “Let's do this.”  
> And he steps forward and disappears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, when I started this I never thought it would reach 50 chapters. 
> 
> I was planning a 50k fan fic of maybe 15ish chapters just to while away the time the during the student holidays.  
> Now look at it, 300k and climbing.  
> I've no idea when it will finish. I've got the ending in my head and it'll end when I get there, but right now, there seems to be a lot of space and stuff to get through before then. A lot of plot and crafting and character building to reach that final climax. 
> 
> So sit back and enjoy this installment of action and adventure. Of Hawkeye being his super-spy self and Nathan being as brave as humanly possible while in borrowed jeans and a Slayer t-shirt. 
> 
> See you on the other side.

*

The Tesseract glows a deep, pulsing blue as you give it the affirmative to proceed. You feel it reaching out to make the connection with the pieces deep underneath the ground of New York. The simulation in the observatory hadn't given the size or the depth of the structure any justice at all. Feeling it through the Tesseract makes you shiver. It's at least half the size of the castle in Sokovia. What has the God-King got down there? 

Hawkeye's dressed in his leathers and ready for action. His bow slung over his arm and his quiver on his hip so that he can carry a large military rucksack on his back. The wind is picking up as the Tesseract starts to bunch its power for the connection, but his expression and stance are unwavering. Hawkeye is on a mission. He is totally focused at the task at hand. 

Nathan's shivering. He's trying to be strong, to look ready, but you can see the tremor in his fingers as the tunnel starts to take shape. He's in tracksuit bottoms and Slayer t-shirt, both still covered with traces of motor oil. His white trainers are cracked and grubby. He keeps running his fingers through his hair as if it will stop them shaking and his expression wavers from determination to uncertain fear. Hawkeye had to secure the rucksack around Nathan's shoulders after it became clear that Nathan had no idea how to wear it properly. Despite all this you can't fault his bravery. He could have backed out at any time and you wouldn't have blamed him at all. Instead Nathan's coming and he's more than ready to help.

You're in a set of loose t-shirt and shorts from Mr Stark's wet t-shirt competition. JARVIS found the box while you were searching out the rucksacks. They fit you far better than last time, in the leg and shoulder at least, as you've grown quite a bit since you were kidnapped by HYDRA, but you're still skinny as all heck and they're loose in strange places. JARVIS tells you that they were made in a 'female cut' but the kind of women Mr Stark made these t-shirts for in that long ago competition means that the shirts are baggy in some very embarrassing places. The cloth whips and slaps against your skin as the Tesseract finishes the connection and the dark maw of the tunnel roars into being. You can see the wormhole-like passage snaking off across the city, flickering and twisting like some form of large alien intestine. 

“Oh fuck.” Nathan says softly. “Oh fuck.” He moves on the spot, deliberately trying to psyche himself up.  
“Let's do this.” Hawkeye says and you nod. You give the Tesseract the next confirmation and you feel the hairs on your arm stand up and then flatten down as the forcefield forms around your skin. You take an experimental step forward. Your new blue skin is strong, but extremely flexible, it moves with you easily. Nathan lifts his hand looking at it with an expression of wonder and horror.  
“Come on.” You give him a reassuring smile. “We're going to be fine.”  
He nods at you wordlessly.  
“Hey.” You say softly, grinning. “You need the warning sentence, so you're ready?”  
“What?” Nathan frowns. “The – 'I’m about to call the Tesseract to drag me into a wormhole, so keep your distance…’ warning we agreed on?”  
“Sure.” You nod.  
“I think I'm braced for it this time.” He says dryly and you can see his confidence returning. He steps forward toward the wide, circular opening. His hair looks strange, plastered to his scalp by the forcefield while the wind shrieks around him and lightening flickers across his body. A static figure in a whirlwind of ancient power. “Let's do this.”  
And he steps forward and disappears. 

“Well, gotta give it to him. That's was pure bravery.” Hawkeye sighs. “Wish he'd let me go first though.”  
“After you, then.” You step to one side and Hawkeye smiles and steps up to the portal.  
“Just hope he hasn't trashed the place before I get there...”  
And then he's gone, as well.  
You take a deep breath, flexing your toes. You still don't have any shoes that fit, but it's quite nice to feel the cool concrete through the forcefield. The cold always focuses you in a positive way. You remember stepping out into the snow , barefoot and ready to save Black-Widow. It seems right to start this mission in the same way.  
You step forward to the twisting, shrieking maw and look into the deep flickering blue beyond.  
You take a deep breath and step inside. 

*

You land on the ground on one knee, your hands spread out in front of you to steady your forward motion. You left your stomach behind in Stark Tower and it takes a few long minutes to adjust. You swallow several times to ease the vomit reflex and you wait for your head to stop spinning. Steam slowly rises from your skin as the small forcefield melts away. It was just strong enough to get you through the wormhole and no further. To take the elemental forces that would have melted and chewed your mortal body into tiny pieces and deflect them for a short period of time.  
Somewhere nearby, you can hear Nathan throwing up.

You get shakily to your feet, blinking to adjust to dark red lighting of the interior of the building. Your eyes feel like they've been sandblasted and rubbing them hurts. Everything hurts.  
The Tesseract laughs at you.  
“Yeah, yeah.” You mutter. “How come it didn't feel like this going to Stark Tower?”  
An image of the Tesseract sensing you in the God-King's throne room through the residual energy in your wires. The echo of the piece you once carried resonating through your body. The Tesseract just picks you up and brings that energy back to it, carrying everything that is connected at the time.  
“So you just kinda teleported us?” You ask.  
Pulling things in is easier than sending things away.  
“So the return journey will be smoother?”  
The Tesseract assures you that this is the case.  
“Good to know.”  
You look around, trying to take in the situation, still swallowing against the vomit reflex.

Hawkeye and Nathan are off in a corner. Hawkeye is patting Nathan's back as the man retches over and over again.  
“The first space-travel experience can be hard.” Hawkeye tells him comfortingly.  
Nathan wipes his mouth and looks at him.  
“You done this before?”  
“Nope.” Hawkeye grins. “But having the Blue in my head prepared me.”  
Nathan nods and stands unsteadily. He glances at you as he sees you walking over.  
“So I'm the only one who lost their stomach in the trip?” He asks a little testily.  
“Not the first trip where I wanted to vomit afterwards.” You tell him. You pat his arm. “Welcome to the club.”  
“Huh.” Nathan sighs the word. He looks around. “So, where are we? Did we make it?”  
“Yup.” Hawkeye lifts his wrist to look at the watch-like device there. “JARVIS, you mind giving us a heads-up?”

Each of you has a device on your wrist that JARVIS found for you. It's a small hologram projector that shows a small map of where you are in the structure. Without them you'd get lost very quickly in such a big place. It had taken a while to convince the Tesseract to let you bring them and a bit longer to get it to promise not to eat them.  
The Tesseract. Right.  
You send out a confirmation of your safe arrival as a strong positive thought and place your palm against the wall. You feel most of the energy seeping from your wires and into the concrete, expanding and expanding, creating a strong blue barrier between you and the outside world. You feel the God-King hit it and you stagger.  
“Kid?” Nathan raises an eyebrow.  
“The God-King knows we're here.” You say.  
“Well, I'm not surprised.” Hawkeye looks at the map. “Shall we get on?”

The room you travelled into is the largest in the structure and filled with the most Tesseract energy. You can feel it, even if you can't access it. It's situated low in the building, almost at the bedrock, but from here you can get almost anywhere. JARVIS computed that the control room was next door, due to layout, energy intake and ventilation priorities. Supplies are probably two floors up.  
You feel the God-King against the forcefield, his mind probing, searching for weaknesses, working out what's going on. You can't touch him at all, can't communicate with him. You're cut off from his mind, but you can feel his presence through your connection with the Tesseract.  
“Is this bad?” You ask it uncertainly.  
“Is what bad?” Nathan asks and you realise you've spoken out loud.  
“Hmmm, I'm talking to the Blue, give me a minute.”  
“Right.”  
The Tesseract assures you that everything is fine. While the God-King would work how how to get through eventually, it will take several hours and you will be done by then.  
“The God-King is watching, but we've got time before he breaks through.”  
“How much time?” Hawkeye asks.  
“An hour or so.”  
“Good to know.”  
You nod to yourself, peering through the reddish gloom of the emergency lighting to see the metal racks, sticking out at least ten feet, secured firmly to the back wall. They are stacked right up to the ceiling.

“What are those?” You ask, walking forward.  
“Missiles.” Hawkeye says, his voice soft. He starts walking forward too. “Ah, crap.”  
“What?” You're almost close enough to see them now, each one is about eight feet long, cradled front and end with metal clamps and padding. They're heavy cylinders two or three feet in diameter with wings at the base and a rounded tip. The very end of the tips look strange, not like you've seen in the movies, almost triangular with deep ridges along their length. You reach out and touch one, the ridges are sharp and you almost cut yourself. But before you draw your hand back, you feel it, the runes carved into every surface and the deep, humming pulse you'd know anywhere. 

“These missiles. They're the nuke propulsion bodies we picked up in the desert silo...” Hawkeye touches the curved metal body. “I'd recognise them anywhere.”  
“But we didn't get any nukes that trip did we?” Nathan says. “I heard the Captain bitching about it, all the blast and none of the boom.”  
“He didn't need it.” You say softly. You push a few buttons on the watch and the Tesseract energy overlay comes into view on the holographic map. You move it around. The glow, that had seemed like one big shape from the distance of Stark Tower now shows individual pulses. And each pulse is in a missile tip.  
“Oh shit.” Nathan whispers. “Oh shit, oh shit...”  
“He's armed them with Tesseract energy.” Hawkeye says, his voice filled with awe. “He's going to nuke places on Earth with parts of an Infinity Stone...”

“Can't we do something?” Nathan asks. “Get rid of them, or...?”  
“What?” Hawkeye raises an eyebrow at him. “Squeamish?”  
“But...” Nathan looks between the two of you. “Fuck...”  
“I've no idea how the runes work.” You shake your head. “They're Elder Magic, I only know two of them and it looks like the whole frikking alphabet has been used here. And even then, the energy I'd need to be able to undo even one...” You shake your head. “The level of concentration I'd need, even if I knew what I was doing...”  
“He's going to kill entire cities with these...” Nathan looks up and around at the entire wall.  
“There's fifty of them.” Hawkeye says. “That's how many we retrieved.” He squints, calculating. “What do you reckon kid? How much damage in each one?”  
The Tesseract has already done the numbers by the time he stops talking.  
“City Killers.” You say without pausing. “He'd need two, tops, to level the whole of New York. To ash it all into blue dust. Just one would do what he'd need, there wouldn't be many survivors at all.”  
“Fuck...” Nathan repeats.  
“What? Just realised that your lover is a mass murderer?” Hawkeye says dryly. “Welcome to the war, Nathan.”  
“No. I knew. Of course I knew what he'd done. But this, this is another thing entirely.” Nathan looks at Hawkeye his face filed with dread. “This is destruction on a massive scale.”

“Fifty cities.” Hawkeye says thoughtfully. “Around the world. Yeah that'd bring everyone to their knees pretty damn fast. But on the plus side, here they are, fully constructed, and he hasn't used them yet.”  
“Meaning...?” Nathan asks.  
“Meaning that they aren't his primary solution. He might never use them.”  
“But if he does!” Nathan almost shouts it.  
“Going to take it up with him if we get out of here?” Hawkeye asks and even in the poor lighting you see Nathan go pale. He holds Hawkeye's gaze for a minute, his jaw working and then his eyes slide away.  
“Shit.” He looks at his feet. “Shit.”  
Hawkeye slaps the metal.  
“Then it's settled.” He looks at you. “Kid, we need to stay on mission.”  
“Right.” You nod. “Follow me.” 

You head towards the door. There are two, one massive hanger-sized sliding door, where the missiles must have come in and a smaller door for personnel. You go to the smaller door and press your palm to it. Electronic, with the commands to open it turned off from the outside. It could be the God-King powered everything down when he saw the wormhole tearing across the city, but this feels older, as if it's just the default setting.  
“Right.” You say, talking to the visitor in your body. “Can you power this up?”  
A tiny fraction of the Tesseract in your wires slides out and, moments later, the lights begin to blink on, one after the other down the hanger. The electronic lock wakes up and a red light flashes above the handle, but it doesn't unlock. You nod, you knew this probably wasn't going to work without a little magical prompting.  
“Metal of my metal.” You say with quiet authority. “Blood of my blood. My soul sings to you. Unbar my way.”  
The door clicks open.

And the God-King is there. He's felt the magic and he's zoning in on it. The barrier holds him at bay, but the intensity of his gaze makes you shiver. He knows you're here now, he knows it's you. Maybe it'll make him ease off a little, knowing that it isn't some attack from outside. The God-King presses into the barrier, all his power focussed on a single point below your feet. You feel the Tesseract shiver and sway. But it manages to hold against him.  
If he does that again, you have considerably less than an hour to get all this done.

You turn to Hawkeye and Nathan as they walk up to you, both them blinking in the sudden brightness.  
“We need to move. The God-King's stepping up his attacks.”  
“But isn't that a good thing?” Nathan asks. “Isn't that a rescue?”  
“Nathan...” You bite your lip, considering what to say. Honesty seems the best policy. “If the Tesseract thinks it's going to lose me, then it will kill both of you in retaliation. It's made it clear to me already that your lives hang in the balance for my good behaviour. If the God-King gets through, then things will get bad, real quick.”  
“Can't you contact him?” Hawkeye asks. “Explain the situation?”  
You shake you head.  
“The Tesseract won't let me.”  
“Well that's just great.” Nathan sighs.  
Hawkeye shrugs.  
“What happens happens.” He says pragmatically. “But our window of operation just got considerably smaller.”  
“Right.” You agree. “We've got to move quickly.” 

*

It doesn't take long to get through the next few doors and into the small, compact control room. Every time you cast the unlocking spell, you feel the God-King on the outside, tracking you. But he doesn't make another attack. You think he might be trying to work out what you're up to.

Through trial and error you discover which part of the mass of electronics is the main control hub and you push your hand deep into the thick tangle of black wiring. The connection is made and you quickly flow through all the systems. There's an itinerary of the items stored here. It takes you moments to break the encryption and get inside the information. You still don't know how your wires work to make you part of a complex computer system. So long as you can get in physical contact with the main systems, it's like you become part of the mainframe itself. It's fascinating and you want to know how it works, but you don't have time right now. It just works and you're not going to question it. 

“Kid?” Nathan's voice. He sounds worried.  
“Two seconds...” And you have it. “Three floors up. The stairwells are locked, but I can bypass the codes for the doors we need. The elevator...” You wince. “No elevator... I can power it up, but I'd have to break into the wiring in the actual control panel of the thing itself. I'd have to be in the elevator to get it to work. A lot of the systems have their own power sources and closed circuit commands.”  
“It's a protection protocol.” Hawkeye tells you. “I'm guessing this control hub has more access, because it's so deep underground. If the Tesseract hadn't teleported us here, it'd be impossible to get to.”  
“I'm guessing the Prince will take that into account once this is over.” Nathan says.  
“Right, so this is our single shot. After this he'll have new protections installed.” Hawkeye looks down at you. “Have we struck gold, kid? Or was all this for nothing?”  
“There's food and water. More than we need or could carry. Enough to feed the population of New York for at least six months under siege.” You nod. “We're good.”  
“How'd you know that?” Nathan asks. “Where'd you get the six-month figure?”  
“The computer told me.” You say simply.  
“Right.” He shakes his head and raises his hands to show that he doesn't have any more questions. “Right. Forget I asked.”  
“Come on.” You stand up. “Let's get this done.” 

The God-King attacks again when you're on the stairwell. The Tesseract whines with the effort, but still holds fast. He doesn't get through. But that time was smarter, he's working it out, how much of the Tesseract is being used to create the forcefield, how much power he needs to breach it. You're going to have to move fast if you want to get this done before everything goes to hell.  
“JARVIS?” You talk into the watch and taking the steps two at a time.  
“How can I help you?”  
“How much awareness have you got here, in these watches?”  
“I am restricted, due to size and the fact that I no longer have a wireless connection to Stark Tower. If the Tesseract hadn't broken the connection when the field went up, we're too deep underground for a signal, in any case.”  
“Can you, I don't know, map the area of a floor, or something similar...?” You ask.  
“I do have a small sonar array, though it will quickly drain the batteries if I do it more than twice. I could do it from each watch individually, giving you six attempts.”  
“That's perfect, when I get to the right floor, I'll let you know.”  
“Very well.” 

“What you planning?” Hawkeye asks.  
“Well if JARVIS can do a scan of the area, he might be able to pin-point the supplies quicker than we can search for them.” You bite you lip in concentration. “I mean food would look different to water or blankets or whatever, right?”  
“Right.” Hawkeye nods. “Good thinking.”  
“I'm just worried that the God-King is going to get through, like really soon...”  
“And we need to speed this up.” Hawkeye agrees.  
“Really speed this up.” You say fervently. “He's working it out and getting closer to a breech all the time.”  
“You can feel him?”  
“Through the Tesseract, yes.” You nod. “I'm connected to it.”  
“Man, is he going to pissed at us.” Nathan sighs heavily.  
“But at least we'll be alive for him to be pissed at.” Hawkeye points out and Nathan smiles at him.  
“Hurray for the bright side.” Nathan says dryly. 

There must be motion trackers for the lights, they turn on as you climb the stairs and then turn off again a few minutes later. The stairwell goes up and up and up, like some sort of horror movie scene. You can't see the top and the bottom is already going dark again. A small pool of light tracking the three of you as you climb.  
“How many floors are there?” Nathan asks, more to himself than anything else, but JARVIS answers.  
“Around thirty, by my best estimation.” He says.  
“Deep underground, then.” Nathan says. “A small tower block in reverse.”  
“Wait.” Hawkeye is looking up, focussed an the upper portion of the stairwell.  
“What?” You ask and then you see it too. Far, far up, possibly at ground level, a single stairwell light has turned on.  
“Fuck.” Nathan voices it for all of you. “Security.”  
“There can't be that many on the inside.” Hawkeye says, his voice thoughtful. He unhooks his bow. “You two go ahead. I'll cover us.” 

You and Nathan hurry onto the right floor, running into the open space of the store room. Hawkeye stays at the door, his foot on the door jam so you can stay in contact, his eyes never leaving the stairwell. He looks so ready, so relaxed, his face intense but the rest of him resting for the moment of action. Calmly he nocks the first arrow to the bow, holding it point down, the string unpulled.  
“Well this is fun.” Nathan says looking around as you both get into the middle of the large space.  
You look around too. There are pallets everywhere, crammed together, some on metal racks like the missiles downstairs. Everything is covered with tarpaulins.  
“JARVIS...?” You prompt and he sends the first sonar wave. Within a few seconds the hologram map is flashing with points of interest. It appears on Nathan's display as well.  
“Okay, you go left, I'll go right.” Nathan says, pulling a knife from his belt and you nod, pulling out your own. Not one of your combat knives, but a heavy duty blade with a serrated edge for cutting rope and other obstacles to finding what you need. I decent survival knife that Hawkeye had insisted each of you carry.  
It's like he's done this before or something... 

The first pallet has stacks of tinned tuna, the next is tinned new potatoes in water and the third has beetroot. You're not a fan of beetroot, but you don't have the luxury to be picky, so you half-fill your backpack with a combination of the three.  
“Hey, kid, got powdered milk here and powdered eggs as well. “ Nathan voice turns to disgust. “And those metal military rations. You ever tried those?”  
“Yup.” You call back.  
“Take 'em.” Hawkeye calls out. “They're a balanced diet. If your taste-buds can ever forgive you.”  
He looses his first arrow. There's a strangled cry from above.  
“Well, they know we're here now.” He says as gunfire rattles down the stairwell.  
“Better all the time.” Nathan calls out. 

You hurry over to the pallets Nathan's found and you tag them for the Tesseract to take back. Each one gets covered by a thin film of blue.  
“How many pallets can you do that to?” Nathan asks.  
“Well I'd hoped for about ten or so, but with the God-King attacks putting a strain on the forcefield...” You sigh. “Long story short I have less power in my wires than we planned for. I can do maybe two more pallets.”  
“Okay.” Nathan hurries off deeper into the complex. “JARVIS, do your thing.”  
Another sonar discharge, another update on the maps.  
“Holy fuck!” Nathan says and you hurry down, expecting a problem. Nathan's standing next to a pallet, the rope trailing on the floor and the tarpaulin thrown right back.  
“Bourbon.” He says wistfully. “And whiskey. Not the best but...”  
“Damn it Nathan, we have to prioritise!” You say a bit more harshly than you mean to.  
He looks at you, his expression one of deep pain and need. You feel a stab of pity.  
“I'm not tagging this.” You say firmly, backing down because of the look in his eyes. “But I'll take a few bottles in my pack, so Hawkeye'll give me the shit, not you.”  
“Thank you.” Nathan says, his voice pitiful. “I'm sorry I'm a drain...”  
“Don't be stupid.” You sigh. “You need it, but ration it okay?”  
“Okay. Five bottles...?”  
“For a week?” You say in disgust and he winces.  
“It might be much longer than a week, you said so yourself. And I can't... I can't function without a few drinks a day. Not under this level of stress...”  
“Fine. You agree, taking off your backpack. “Five bottles, I can carry them. Pick what you need.”

“Kid?” Hawkeye calls from the stairwell, he's still steadily firing upwards, one well-aimed arrow at a time. “I'm going to need you to come get my backpack.”  
You leave Nathan to fill yours with the bottles and hurry back to the door. Hawkeye shrugs off the pack and kicks it to you.  
“There are a lot more than I thought possible.” He says. “I'm keeping them busy, but we haven't got long...”  
Then the God-King strikes the force field so hard that you stagger, dropping to your knees.  
“Kid?”  
“I'm good.” You climb back on your feet. “Still holding.”  
“How long?”  
“Five minutes, ten?” You shake your head. “As long as it takes him to gather enough magical power for a final strike. We won't be able to hold off the next one.”  
“Then get going.” He says and you nod.  
“Almost done.” 

Five minutes later and you've tagged two more pallets, one of canned fruit and another of assorted vegetables. Nathan has filled his pack with more of the tuna and potatoes and you've found a store of custard and tinned chocolate cake along with the high sugar energy ration bars the military carry through expeditions. You fill Hawkeye's backpack until you almost can't zip it up.  
“Okay.” You call to him. “We're good.”  
Hawkeye comes jogging into the room backwards, still loosing arrows. The bodies that collapse into the room have blue glowing eyes. The glow fades as they hit the floor, the Sceptre's grip releasing them in death.  
“Okay.” You shout out to the Big Blue at Stark Tower. “We need to leave. Now.”  
You feel the power bunch and the pallets you marked all disappear, one after the other.  
“We need to get close together.” You say. "I need to cover us so we can make the trip back.”  
Hawkeye steps up to you sharply, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Nathan's a little slower and has to wrap his arm around Hawkeye's waist. His face is pale as he sees the soldiers piling into the room.  
“Any time...” Nathan whispers. “Anytime now, you Blue Bastard...”  
The Tesseract grips you firmly. Hawkeye tenses against you as he feels the power swirling around him and Nathan gives a small strangled cry. You allow the last of the energy in your wires to flow around you all, protecting you from the ancient, surging force as it picks you up off the ground.  
You close your eyes as the Tesseract pulls you back.  
Reclaiming you once again for itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you guys and gals know, this installment was late due to me being in recovery after a spot of non-invasive chest surgery. (I'm having all the fun at the moment.)  
> I'm perfectly fine, in minimal pain and healing well. All lights are green. Two weeks in and the scars are healing up nicely. But I wasn't in the right frame of mind to finish editing the chapter until now. 
> 
> I'll answer the comments in a few days as well. It was either comments or installment and I figured you'd want the chapter more. 
> 
> On the plus side I'm stuck in bed with not much to do. So chapters will be getting written and edited in the near future. I have another project I'm working on, but this will take equal priority as it gets me out of my head space.  
> So, look forward to hearing from me fairly soon.  
> Take it easy folks, I know I will be.


	51. Respite and Repercussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It starts with a strange sort of pressure against your skull, deep inside and yet somehow external. A shivering in your wires like the prickle of static on your skin. A remembered energy, shifting and groaning as the pressure builds. 
> 
> The Tesseract resisting...
> 
> A massive struggle, a battle of wills.  
> A frisson of power, a strange feeling, almost like the taste of surging yellow against unyielding blue.  
> A new player. A different pulse.  
> Something powerful and directed and focussed, something boosting the attack.  
> You put your head in your hands. You're unable to cope with the strafing battle being fought around you, silent and unseen.
> 
> The Tesseract breaks...
> 
> The force-field remains, he can't overcome its physical being – but the Tesseract's will is another matter entirely. The Tesseract is pure energy, solid and unbreachable. But its thought process is simple and straight forward. It's easy to get around, to circumvent, if you know what you're doing.  
> And he does know what he's doing. He knows its weaknesses and the Tesseract cannot stop him. 
> 
> You try to stand, try to shout out a warning to Nathan and Hawkeye.  
> But you're not fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes!  
> I hit the deadline!
> 
> I mean it's 11.30p.m. here, but I promised to update on Monday, and it's still frikking Monday.  
> Result!  
> A decent sized chapter as well, coming in at over 5k words. 
> 
> The next chapter is also written, but needs editing, blah blah blah.  
> So next Monday it is, let's go two for two.
> 
> Happy Reading and I'll be back soon.

*

The sudden tactile change on your soles from the hard, cold concrete of the bunker to the soft, deep-pile carpet of the penthouse hits you at a profound level.  
You're back in Stark Tower, you're safe again.  
The surge of relief makes your knees buckle and you sink, almost weeping, to the floor. Nathan crouches down next to you and holds you close, he's trembling as hard as you are. Hawkeye takes your shoulder in one hand and Nathan's in the other, making contact with you both to offer his comfort.  
“That was intense.” He says crisply. “Well done, both of you.”  
“Fuck.” Nathan whispers. “We got to do that again in a week?”  
“Don't think about it.” Hawkeye advises him. “Not yet. Get some rest, spend a few days chilling out, de-stressing. Do whatever you need. We'll sort out plans for the next expedition when it gets closer.” He pats Nathan's shoulder. “We have food now, we have provisions. Now, we can rest.”  
“Yeah.” Nathan exhales. “Yeah.” 

“And don't think I don't know about the bourbon.” Hawkeye shakes his head. “I saw you pack it.”  
“How? You were shooting bad guys and...” Nathan growls, exasperated. “How the fuck do you know?”  
“I'm a professional.” Hawkeye grins at him. “And you guys were so green I knew I had to keep an eye on you.”  
“He needs it and..” You start, but Hawkeye raises a hand.  
“I know.” He agrees. “I know. It'll help with the de-stress anyway, so it's okay.”  
“The pack isn't just filled with alcohol.” You say, still a touch defensive. “Just enough for him to cope.”  
“And I appreciate that.” Hawkeye nods. “It's fine. I'm not mad.”  
“Good.” You say fiercely and he laughs.  
“You've got a good heart, Kid.” He pats your shoulder as well and then moves away to put his pack on the side. “I'm glad Loki didn't burn it out of you.” 

You nod and swallow, grateful for the complement, but also aware the the God-King isn't going to let this lie. You stole from him. He'll be coming. It's just a matter of time.

“Ah, crap.” Nathan stands and grimaces. He's just run his hands down his shirt to smooth it and come up with something sticky. “Vomit.”  
“Here.” You stand, grateful to be of use. “I can sort it.”  
Nathan watches you warily as you whisper the cleaning spell and touch his garments, one after another. The trousers have motor-oil stains and the white trainers are almost grey, they're so grubby, so you decide to clean everything while you're at it.  
“Hey. That feels great.” Nathan inspects he fresh t-shirt. “Thanks, Kid. Never knew magic could be useful.”  
“It's the only kind I know.” You smile at him. “You get a headache or anything, you tell me. I can remove mild pain as well, not just grease.”  
“Excellent.” Nathan looks around. “I'm going to drop the pack for Hawkeye to sort out and then I'm going to find somewhere comfy to sit down for a bit.”  
“Sounds like a plan.” You agree, walking over to the bar with him, where Hawkeye is stacking cans of custard and chocolate cake. 

“You know where the pallets are?” Hawkeye asks as he takes off your pack and hefts it onto the counter. There's a heavy clink of glass as it hits the surface.  
“Careful.” Nathan says, as he shrugs off his own backpack and puts it down.  
“Don't worry. I won't break any of the bottles.” Hawkeye shakes his head at him.  
“Good, cause sucking alcohol off the carpet is undignified, you know?” Nathan says, only half-joking. He licks his lips nervously.  
“To answer your question, Mr Barton, the pallets are down in the kitchen area, where they are taking up most of the space.” JARVIS sounds as annoyed as you've ever heard him. “I've activated a few of Mr Stark's suits and they're unpacking and sorting it all out as we speak. I wouldn't recommend going down there until we're done.”  
“Well, that'll save us some time. Thank you JARVIS.” Hawkeye nods at the ceiling.  
“You are most welcome.” JARVIS' voice calms down at Hawkeye's polite answer. “You all look like you need the rest.”  
“We do.” You agree, figuring backing up Hawkeye's tact won't hurt. “We appreciate the effort.”  
“And I appreciate the value you place in me.” JARVIS sounds very happy. “I live to be of service. It is good to know that my endeavours do not go unnoticed.”

Nathan grabs the bottles as soon as Hawkeye unpacks them.  
“These are going straight into my room, kids.” He says firmly. “I'll see you in a minute.”  
Nathan heads off hugging the bottles to his chest.  
You watch him go sadly.  
“It's awful to see him like that.” You say once he's well out of earshot.  
“He's an addict kid, he can't help it.” Hawkeye starts pulling out the cans from the bottom of your pack. “Hey beetroot!”  
“You like beetroot?” You ask incredulously.  
“Nope. But it's good for you.” Hawkeye looks down at you like a dad. “So I'll be putting it in every meal until it's gone.”  
“You're evil, you know that?” You tell him and he laughs.  
“Absolutely. Most evil spy in the world.”  
You punch his arm and grab one of the tins of chocolate cake. It's a dome type tin with a flatish top that fits neatly against the bottom of the next tin, so they stack evenly. The base is a full circle and has a ring pull for easy opening. You start to work it free and peel open the tin, sniffing at it uncertainly.  
“More military rations.” Hawkeye observes. “Canned for freshness.”

“Does it taste good?” You ask, dipping your finger in the sauce around the soft sponge.  
“Metallic, but one of the better things you can get in the field.” Hawkeye tells you. “When you're out a long time, you start keeping them to trade.” He leans forward, dipping his finger in as well, ignoring your protestations. He sticks it in his mouth and makes a happy noise. “After five weeks of hard rations, you can get almost anything for these babies. They're worth more than cigarettes.”  
You lick at the chocolate sauce experimentally. You make a face.  
“Things must get pretty desperate on the front lines...”  
“Behind enemy lines, actually... And if you don't want it...” Hawkeye makes a play grab for the tin, but you ward him off.  
“I never said that.” You say, dipping your finger in again and he laughs. He helps himself to one, ripping off the bottom with ease of practice. He leans against the counter and tearing into the soft sponge with his index and middle finger, an image of pure relaxation. 

“How do you do it?” You ask him. “How do you relax so quickly after something like that?”  
“You don't.” Hawkeye tells you. “You just learn how to keep it stowed for later, when you can process it all.”  
“How long are you going to keep this stowed?” You ask and he shrugs, popping more cake into his mouth as he thinks.  
“Until we get back to the Empire State.” He says eventually. “I'm guessing Loki's going to bench me after this anyway, and you'll be busy doing other stuff. I'll get a chance to sort my head out, then.”  
“I might need you.” You say quietly.  
Hawkeye puts the tin down, so he can ruffle your hair with fingers not covered in chocolate sauce.  
“You need me, I'm there.” He promises. “But I probably won't be combat ready. I've got a lot to think about.”  
“Yeah...” You agree. You look up at him and bite your lip. “I'm so sorry I couldn't stop him... With the Sceptre, I mean...”  
“You stopped him taking Natasha.” Hawkeye sighs, picking up the tin again. “I remember that, even with the Blue newly back in my brain, I remember that. It was one of things that kept me going. Thank you.”  
You grimace with uncertainty.

“Kid.” Haweye looks down at his food while he talks, deliberately not making eye contact. “Let me tell you this one thing. The most important thing...”  
“Yeah?”  
“You do what you can. And that's all you can do. When you're behind enemy lines, things go wrong. When you're up against an alien god of unimaginable power, things go wrong. Not everything can be controlled. You do what you can.” He sighs. “And the fact that you're doing what you can – even when the crap hits the fan and it's all going to pieces – that's what counts. You do all you can, because most other people would just lose it and do nothing. So the fact you acted, the fact you tried, that means the most, more than anything else.” His eyes flicker and he looks down at you, a tight smile on his lips. “And you savour the victories, even the small ones. You couldn't save me, but you could save Natasha – and you did. You dug your heels in and you stood up to him, even though your heart was beating fit to bust and you thought you might die from the fear of it. That was the moment, even with the Blue clouding my eyes, that was the moment I knew we'd made the right choice waiting for you. That we'd saved a fighter.” He nods and goes back to finishing the can. “And I'm proud of you.”  
You bite your lip again and you look away, both happy and embarrassed.  
“So I'm here for you, whenever you need me. I'm here.”  
“Thank you, Clint.” You say quietly.  
“You're welcome.”  
You both finish your chocolate cake in a companionable silence.

*

It's later, you're not sure how much later. There aren't any clocks. You could ask JARVIS, but it seems unimportant somehow. Apparently Mr Stark didn't like the ticking or something. It messed with his concentration. 

You're sitting on the carpet, practising balancing your daggers on your fingers, trying to do it with both hands simultaneously. Nathan's lounging on one of the long couches, drinking the last of the old alcohol from the bar and Clint's cooking you all a simple meal using a few of the ration packs, a bit of powered milk and the beetroot. He wasn't lying about the beetroot and he says the rations taste better if you get the chance to cook them. He's enjoying playing the dad, singing to himself softly as he goes about his work.  
It's all really chilled and peaceful. 

So of course, it can't last... 

It starts with a strange sort of pressure against your skull, deep inside and yet somehow external. A shivering in your wires like the prickle of static on your skin. A remembered energy, shifting and groaning as the pressure builds. 

The Tesseract resisting...

A massive struggle, a battle of wills.  
A frisson of power, a strange feeling, almost like the taste of surging yellow against unyielding blue.  
A new player. A different pulse.  
Something powerful and directed and focussed, something boosting the attack.  
You put your head in your hands. You're unable to cope with the strafing battle being fought around you, silent and unseen.

The Tesseract breaks...

The force-field remains, he can't overcome its physical being – but the Tesseract's will is another matter entirely. The Tesseract is pure energy, solid and unbreachable. But its thought process is simple and straight forward. It's easy to get around, to circumvent, if you know what you're doing.  
And he does know what he's doing. He knows its weaknesses and the Tesseract cannot stop him. Not with this new power strengthening his assault.

And you try to stand, try to shout out a warning to Nathan and Hawkeye.  
But you're not fast enough.

The God-King pours into your mind. Heavy and strong and pinning you down. He's so angry, so powerful... He thinks you've betrayed him. You can't move, you can't fight, you feel his claws pricking you delicately. Pushing against the skin of your mind, razor-sharp and ready to tear you apart.  
“Tell me why I shouldn't.”  
His voice is as sharp as his warning. 

And you open your mind to him, showing him everything that's happened since the Tesseract stole you away. You hide nothing, not any of it. To hide anything would mean your death, so you give him everything.  
What it wants, why you did what you did.  
What you found in the bunker...  
Everything...

He scans through it, his emotions unreadable. You whimper in fear as he unrolls the events slowly, running through them several times before finally letting you go.  
“Very well.” The claws retract.  
“I never wanted this.”  
“So I see.” He gives a soft sigh. “I thought that perhaps SHIELD had found a way to use their Tesseract-powered link with Asgard to assault one of my strongholds, that perhaps they were further along than I expected. That maybe they had used you to get in under my guard. Perhaps using you as an anchor for their own Tesseract created pathway...” He pauses, shaking his head. “But no, just an Infinity Stone playing stupid games.”

_Not the only one playing stupid games._

The thought is out before he can stop it, but you pretend not to have heard it. You so don't want to give him a reason and he feels at the end of his patience. Frustrated and angry and looking for something to rip to shreds. You don't want to give him an excuse.  
“You have no idea what you have set in motion.” He scolds you. “I'm in conversation with Howard's Child right now. He wants to know all about you.”  
“He's here?” You quail with terror.  
“No. In fact he thinks I just tested the Tesseract's defences and scouted Stark Tower. I'm reporting that there is just you and the other two mortals you took with you. No army, no danger. He thinks maybe another hand is at work, as I did. Asgard perhaps, trying to create a foothold. He's busy, he's paranoid and he's not just talking with me right now.” The God-King keeps you pinned, but strokes your mind several times with long, slow movements to show you the danger has passed. That he is not going to harm you. You sigh at the reassurance. “And I may have found a new way to keep myself apart from him. But as always, it is a dangerous game.”

The yellow pulse, the thing that had felt so powerful breaking into the Tesseract's force-field, is actually quite small now that you can feel it though the God-King's thoughts. It's like a rapier, the tip pressed expertly against the skin, pounds and pounds of pressure against a single point. For the thing being attacked, it's overwhelming, a deep cut into the surface – but from outside, it barely causes a ripple at all. And the God-King is hiding his actions somehow, bringing his illusions into play in a new and interesting direction. You can only feel it because you're in his mind and he hasn't worked out how to conceal it internally yet. Any external intrusions into the God-King's thoughts, Howard's Child for example, would not feel anything amiss. You reach out and touch the yellow glow, letting him know that you can feel it. He watches you as he always does. Like he's watching a puppy performing an interesting trick. He pushes you away, but gently. He covers the yellow from your sight, as if putting a blanket over it. Wrapping it securely, so you cannot touch it again.  
“Our little secret.” He whispers.  
You nod and touch his mind to reinforce your willingness to obey.  
He sends soft, silvery feelings of approval in return. 

“Is he watching?” You ask.  
“No. He's distracted and we're alone.”  
“Is he going to have me killed?” You ask and the God-King gives another heavy sigh.  
“An interesting little item like you? No, I doubt it. He has children from many different conquered worlds and you are malleable enough to be fun, and practical enough to be a potential candidate. I'm telling him that I was preparing you for him as a gift.”  
A packet of knowledge is placed in your mind. Memories that aren't yours, not yet. Wrapped and ready for you to read at a later date. With the others he's given you, it's going to be a lot of homework to catch up on.  
“Though it would be kinder to shred you now and save you the agony of what he will do to you.” The claws shift again. You feel the urge in his mind, that dark lurking madness that wants to rip and tear and hunt something weaker. The madness borne of the torture at the hand of his Master. A madness still fresh. He's been taken again and this time it was all your fault. You feel an awful stab of guilt, but what else could you have done? 

“This isn't you.” You tell him quietly. “This is the pain he has given you.”  
“And will give you. If I allow him to take you.”  
“Maybe.” You agree, carefully. “But maybe not.”  
“Do you want to find out?”  
“Don't you?”  
The claws ease again. He laughs.  
“I'm going to create a hologram in your wires and project it through your palm. I wish to talk to Nathan.”  
“Sure.” You say. “Just let me get up and warn them first.”  
“Very well.” And he lifts his hold, allowing you power over your limbs again. 

*

You blink for a moment, reeling a little. Coming back into the real world after that intense meeting of minds is a bit of a shock to the system. You look up, surprised that only seconds seem to have passed. Nathan is still sipping at his drink and Clint is still humming and cooking, his back to both of you.  
“Uh, guys?” You say, not sure how to approach this.  
Clint is instantly alert. His body tenses and he turns his head to regard you.  
Your eyes meet and you feel something in him, a remaining strand of the Sceptre perhaps, letting him know about the other person behind your eyes.  
“Oh great.” He mutters. “I should have guessed this would happen.” He sighs. “Just let him out, Kid.”  
“Huh?” Nathan looks between the two of you.  
“I can feel him.” Clint puts his knife down and turns the heat low on the pans, so they can simmer, but won't burn. “You have a God in your head once, you know when he's around. Let him out, Kid, let's get this over with.” He flicks the tea-towel onto his shoulder and walks over so he's standing behind Nathan, he leans on the back of the couch with both elbows, hands clasped in front of him.  
“I'm ready.” He says and you nod. 

“Okay.” You reach forward, your hand facing up, the circle on your palm pointing out.  
The God-King moves, there's a flicker of bright light as he adjusts the hologram and then he's standing in front of you, dressed in his long coat, his hair falling loosely around his shoulders. Regal casual, just a loop of plain beaten metal around his neck, no helm or crown.  
A knife takes him in the eye, making the hologram flicker. It goes straight through the image and embeds itself in the wall behind him.  
“Damn it, Barton.” He snaps and Clint shrugs, grinning.  
“Sorry. Old habits...”  
The God-King sighs, he shakes his head and looks down. You can feel him taking a deep mental breath, holding in the screaming darkness that just wants to rend all three of you into tiny pieces. He pulls himself back together. He starts again.  
He focuses on Nathan and the darkness melts away.  
_Love, relief, annoyance, anger, love..._  
You blink at the flux of emotional feedback you receive from that single glance at his mortal consort. Then he's back on message and stalking forward. 

“Thank the Norns you're okay.” He says, angrily. “What the fuck were you thinking?”  
Nathan sits up.  
“Well I wasn't, obviously.” He says, equally annoyed. “What the fuck are you doing here?”  
“Working out what in all the Realms you three were playing at!” The God-King snarls back.  
“Dinner.” Clint says calmly. The God-King's head snaps up and he glares at him. Again the darkness swirls and the God-King contains it.  
“What?” Clint says nonchalantly. “It's the truth. See?” He gestures to the kitchen. “It's not much, but we were out of provisions. We'll survive a while now. Thanks for asking.”  
“He's already read my mind. He knows what happened.” You say and the God-King takes a turn glaring at you. “What? It's the truth.” You say copying Clint's drawl and the God-King narrows his eyes.  
“Picking up new bad habits already?” He asks you and you shrug, non-committal.  
“Let's face it, I could be picking them up from Nathan instead.” You say and Clint gives an amused snort. 

“So you know?” Nathan asks. “About the bombs?”  
“That you saw them? And what you thought? Yes, I do.” The God-King tells him and Nathan sits up, looking at him intently.  
“So what are you going to do about it?”  
The God-King sighs, he pinches his nose.  
“They're not going to be used, Nathan. They're the option of last resort and then only as a threat. If the worst comes to the worst, I'll only need to use one, maybe two...”  
“Then why do you have fifty?!” Nathan shouts it, jumping to his feet,  
“Because you use one and then tell everyone you have more and they fall in line.”  
The God-King gestures sharply, a sweeping horizontal pass, his arm straight, his fingers splayed. “I want to talk to the world, Nathan, to negotiate. I want to try and sort out this all out with as little bloodshed as I can. But I have to plan for bloodshed because this is a war I have to win. I have to rule this tiny planet. I have to. There is no compromise in that.” The God-King sets his jaw in determination, but Nathan doesn't back down.  
“That is one big fucking ego, right there.” The man says, his voice soft with anger.

And the darkness swirls and screams. It tells the God-King to strike down this impudent mortal, to reach into Nathan's mind and tear and tear and tear...

The God-King shakes his head.  
He gestures and the small spell shoves Nathan back onto the couch.  
“Enough.” He says gently. “I don't want to fight.”  
“Then you shouldn't have come.” Nathan tells him.  
“He's right.” Clint agrees. “Everyone in this room is pretty pissed at you.”  
The God-King tilts his head, giving Clint a withering look, then he turns on his heel and starts to pace. 

“I don't have that much time here. So I need you to listen.” He says, his voice waspish with annoyance.  
“Sure.” Clint agrees. “We're listening.”  
“Thanks to your little stunt, those Beyond the Void have found out that this child is more than just my personal pet. They'll be coming and I can't do anything about it. I've even had to trick my way here, just to warn you.” The God-King gives both Nathan and Clint a contemptuous look. “And I have to put my trust in two mortals...”  
“Gee, thanks.” Nathan says, picking up his glass, lifting it in toast and taking a sip.  
“I wish you wouldn't drink...” The God-King says, his voice echoing the pain on his expression.  
“Two measures a day. I promise. It's just to keep the stress off.” Nathan says. “Don't worry, Clint and the Kid won't let me have more.” He looks at the amber liquid thoughtfully. “I know I have a problem, okay? But right now is not the best time to deal with it.”  
The God-King nods reluctantly. 

“So, they're coming. And we all know what happens when they come for you and take you way.” Clint nods as he speaks. “So, what do we do? What can we do?”  
“The Child will need reassurance, lots of it, if their mind is taken. If they return...” The God-King makes a face. “When they return, they might be feral, you need to be ready for that. The Child might go mad for a time. You need to be ready for the worst, you need to know that they might be tortured while they are away, that their mind will be physical where they go. The magic Beyond the Void is powerful. The Child might be here, but their mind can still be ravaged as if their body had travelled as well. If they are taken, keep them safe, keep them comfortable, make sure they take fluids. They might be a way for a long while...”  
“Feral.” You say swallowing. “Like you were?”  
“Like I was.” The God-King agrees.  
You shiver, you look at the two men.  
“Well at least Hawkeye'll be able to take me down.” You say and Nathan grins.  
“And then I'll sit on you.” He says. “Promise.”  
“And I haven't taught you anything that will give you an edge when you're in the mindless state.” The God-King says. “Luckily.”  
“Yeah. Sticking to High Magic and a few cute tricks was a good call.” You say. “Though I wish I could know more.”  
“Later, when this is all done.” The God-King looks at you and you smile at him.  
Your smile falters and fades.  
“I'm scared.” You whisper to him in your mind, so no one else can hear.

He looks at you sadly, touches your mind in a brief reassurance.  
You wish you could take it back. You wish you hadn't shown him weakness.  
“In the circumstance, I won't hold it against you.” He tells you, speaking directly into your head. “Check what I have just given you and search your mind for other clues. I scattered many the last time I was there.”  
“When you trapped me?”  
“When I trapped you. Yes.”  
“If, if this goes wrong. If He pushes me too far... If my mind breaks, or, or I get driven out of my senses and I can't come back...?”  
“Your death will be swift. I will fill your mind with softness before giving you the final blow. If He breaks you, I will not let you suffer.”  
“Thank you.”  
“I am responsible for you. For everything that happens to you. I brought you here, to this place, to this moment. I have a duty to you. Even at the end.” 

“Hey.” Clint calls out, drawing you both back to the present. He's still leaning on the back of the couch, watching the two of you. “I know you're having a moment, and that preparing us for Them was the top priority. But since you're here and all, I really need to know what happened to the SHIELD operatives that were in the throne room when the Sceptre went wacky.”  
“I still have them. They are in the cells. But they have not been harmed.” The God-King says.  
“Well that's reassuring.” Clint says dryly.  
“What was I supposed to do? They witnessed me losing control, they saw my weakness. I can't let that tale spread.” The God-King curls his lip in distaste. “It was not something I wanted either.”

“But you can't.” Nathan gets up and walks over. “You can't keep them.”  
“And why not, my dear mortal?” The God-King asks sarcastically, looking down at him with amused contempt.  
“Hey, enough of that.” Nathan growls. “Don't pull that 'older and wiser' shit on me right now.”  
“But I am...”  
“But you're not.” Nathan snaps. “You focus too much on your image and not enough on the big picture. Not when it's close to the bone. Generally, yeah, you're good, but when you think you've been seen through, you always get it wrong...”  
“Nathan...” And the God-King's voice is hard.  
“No. Shut the fuck up and listen for a change. You can't beat the shit out of me here, so you're going to fucking listen for once. You have to let them go. All of them.”  
The God-King glares at him coldly. You start shaking at that look and Nathan pales a little, but he presses on.

“Fuck it. I'm probably not getting out of this alive, so I'll say what I goddamn please. Because if I'm heading to Asgard we both know the chances of me getting back are slim to none. And I'm going, because I ain't sitting this out, so... Awww, fuck...”  
Nathan downs the remains of his drink and throws the empty glass onto the carpet in a single decisive gesture. It bounces and rolls away under the couch.  
“Right...” His lifts his finger to forestall the God-King. “You are letting those folks go. All of them. And you are letting them go and letting them tell their story. Because you need to keep your word. That's more important than anything else right now. You need SHIELD. I've been in on enough meetings being the eye-candy to know that much. Even if I don't know the ins and outs of it. SHIELD and you are kinda working on the same side right now, so you can't risk pissing them off.”  
The God-King goes to speak and Nathan glares at him. The God-King closes his mouth again, tilting his head in surprise at Nathan's vehemence.

“Who cares what they've seen?” Nathan continues, waving his arms in exasperation. “They need to get those files out and disseminated, right? That was the whole goal of this. That was the entire point. The Kid was the reason you concocted for it, but you haven't had Selvig sneaking around, doing whatever the hell knows what, just to let it fall down on a point of pride. And, so what if they say you don't have a full grip on everything? Once they're out, they're still on the other side of the force-field. They can't do shit out there. I mean, do they even know what they saw? I mean, I'm here, I'm part of it and I don't even know what I saw...”  
Nathan steps up to the hologram, so they're face to face, almost touching.  
“Be the bigger man for once.” 

The God-King reaches out and touches his cheek, smiling gently.  
“I'm not a man...”  
“Well, we all have our failings...” Nathan grins weakly, melting at the God-King's touch.  
“I miss you...”  
“I miss you, too.”  
“Please don't get yourself killed.”  
“Number one on my to-do list. Don't die. I promise.”  
“You're right, I...” The God-King shakes his head. “You're right. I have to let them go, don't I? Or all this will be for nothing.”  
“Wish I had a tape recorder right now, so I could play that back to you.” Nathan says.  
“I'm glad you don't.”  
“Well, there are witnesses...” Clint says from behind the couch.  
“You stay out of this, Barton.” The God-King snaps, but doesn't take his eyes off Nathan.  
“I'll let them go. As soon as I get the chance. Probably tonight, the way things are going. But I will let them go. You have my word.”  
“Thataboy.” Nathan kisses the hologram on the cheek and shivers. “Hmmm, you tingle...”

The God-King looks down at you.  
“Filo's funeral was meant to be tomorrow. Should I postpone it for when you return?” He asks and your heart drops into your stomach.  
You bite your bottom lip, considering. You wonder how Filo would deal with this  
While he would love you to be there, Filo was always pragmatic. He wouldn't want your emotions to cloud your judgement. You might not make it back from Asgard, so holding the funeral off wouldn't do much in the long run. There are too many uncertainties.  
But you could make Filo's death mean something, make him important and symbolic, just one last time...

“No.” You say. “No, you shouldn't.”  
The God-King raises an eyebrow.  
“I want to be there, more than anything. But... but this isn't about me, is it? It's about saying goodbye and... And... When I come back we can do something small to say goodbye, once he's been interred... “  
You swallow heavily and look down at your feet.  
“Filo would want me to think with my head, not my heart and his funeral would be a perfect way to show SHIELD you're still on track. Let them free tonight, tell them that they are going to be invited to Filo's funeral tomorrow. Then they get to go home. They get to say that Filo's properly dead, that there's nothing else to worry about from that angle. Natasha would want to know. She and Filo didn't see eye to eye, but they understood each other, there was professional respect. Let SHIELD take the news back with them. Give them the closure they need on that. They didn't trust Filo, but from one spy to another, they'll want to pay their dues. Because...” You look away. “Because...”

“Because the sides don't matter, not really. We're all just pawns in a big old game. And when one of the old guard dies, we all like to be there to show our respects.” Clint says quietly. “Because in death, the sides don't matter.”  
“Yeah.” You say. “That. All that.”  
The God-King nods.  
“Very well.” He smiles. “You grow more adult every day.”  
“I've had a good set of teachers.”

The God-King looks up suddenly, his eyes unfocus for a moment, as if he's listening to something.  
“I have to go. They're addressing me more directly now. They'll notice I'm here.” He points a finger at Nathan imperiously. “Don't die.”  
“I'll do my best.”  
The God-King turns to you.  
“Be brave.” He says and you nod.  
“I promise.”  
“Still promising.” The God-King laughs. “You never learn do you?”  
You smile timidly.  
“And you, Barton.” He says, raising his voice but not looking at him. “Protect them.”  
“With my life.” Clint nods.  
The God-King lets out a deep breath.  
“I shall see you all when this is over. To break bread, drink mead and share stories. My mortal warriors. Fight well.”  
And then he's gone.

“Well that was unexpectedly nice.” Clint drawls into the sudden surprised silence at the God-King's final remarks. “Didn't you think that was nice?”  
He flicks the towel from his shoulder and goes back to cooking, while you and Nathan share an uncertain look.  
It was almost as if he was saying goodbye...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, sorry if there are any typos, I edited this bad boy three times and still kept finding them. I also had problems with clarity of sentences, so I hope I managed to sort them.
> 
> I am healing well, but the scars are tight and I feel like I'm in an ill-fitting skin suit across the chest right now. It pulls and aches with every movement and the binder I have to wear rubs and makes my skin sore. This is making concentrating quite difficult and giving me the temperament of a grumbling bear that has to nap out every few hours.  
> I'm healing faster than the aftercare is saying I should be and there have been no complications. I'm doing fine, medically speaking. But yeah, I'm a grumpy, tired bear who's having typing issues. 
> 
> Thank you all for the comments, I will get around to answering them, probably tomorrow evening.  
> Until then, enjoy this installment and the next one will be in a week's time.  
> Because goals are good.


	52. What Lies Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “JARVIS?”  
> “Yes?”  
> “If you wanted someone to come to Stark Tower and you had a personal link to their television set... If you would make them watch... And you were an utter bastard who was in control of someone they cared for...” You pause thinking. “Would you show them being tortured to try and draw them out?”  
> “That's a very specific question.” JARVIS says thoughtfully. “I think you know the answer.”  
> “Well. Maybe.” You bite at your bottom lip again. “But what if the person you wanted was weaker than you and you knew where they lived. Why would you bother trying to draw them out?”  
> “A perverse sense of satisfaction perhaps?”  
> One of Mr Stark's Iron Man suits walks into the room carrying a tray of scrambled eggs and coffee. It puts it on the table by the bed.  
> “Thank you, JARVIS.”  
> “You are welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! Made another deadline for this fic.  
> Monday's might become a habit.  
> Though I'm only half way through the next chapter, so we'll see.  
> I don't like to promise if I can't commit.
> 
> This is another thoughtful, character strengthening chapter.  
> The next one will be all plot and mortal danger.
> 
> Enjoy the update.

*

You're woken by the screams of the God-King. You shift on your bed, sliding back into wakefulness. The God-King is distant, far away, so far that his screams are echoes in your head. He's being tortured, there's no doubt about that. The meeting with his Master mustn't have gone well. You sit up and settle your back against the padded headboard, breathing steadily and trying to work out what this all means. 

“Are you all right?” JARVIS asks politely and you look up at the ceiling, raising an eyebrow.  
“You must have scanned me half a dozen times before you asked that question.” You say, your voice short and annoyed. “You tell me.”  
“I have to monitor you. The wires have changed your physical make-up drastically. I have to be sure you are healthy, as your bio-signs are no longer entirely of the human standard. Sometimes verbal assurances help with diagnosis.”  
“You know about the wires?”  
“From the moment you appeared in Stark Tower.”  
“Huh.”  
“I do not mean to intrude, but your well-being is my top priority.”  
“Do you scan Nathan and Clint as well?”  
“Yes, just not as often as you.”  
You nod several times. 

“I'm okay.” You say eventually, deciding that making an issue isn't going to change anything. JARVIS was designed to obey Mr Stark, not you, so he'll do what he needs to keep you well. “I can hear the God-King.”  
“Hear him?”  
“In my head.” You tap your temple.  
“You have a telepathic link?”  
“We share brain space all the time.”  
“Fascinating.” And you can hear the question, hanging in the word.  
“Well you've scanned everything else. I guess my brain is fair game, as well.”  
“Are you sure? Basic readings are one thing, but the mind is a different matter. I wouldn't want to intrude.”  
You can't help but laugh.  
“Take it, store it. It might come in handy one day.”  
“Very well. Thank you for your permission.”  
You sit and close your eyes, expecting pain, but you don't feel anything.

“Are you scanning right now?” You ask after a few minutes.  
“Yes.” JARVIS falters. “Should I stop? You appear to be in discomfort.”  
“I'm okay. I was just expecting it to hurt.”  
“I will never harm you.” JARVIS says firmly, his voice comforting and warm. “If there was a chance of it, I would not have asked in the first place.”  
You smile up at the ceiling.  
“Thanks, JARVIS.”  
“You are most welcome. Would you like anything to eat? A coffee perhaps?”  
“A spot of breakfast might be good.” You agree, mimicking his polite tones.  
“I shall arrange it.” 

You sit on the bed, your legs curled under you, listening to the God-King as he screams in torment. You can feel him writhing, you can feel the intensity of it, the sweat on his brow, the scalding heat around him – but you can't feel the pain. It's all one step removed, like a really interactive movie. If you listen hard, you can feel his mind as well, feel his resolve. He'll break before he begs. He'll not give anyone that satisfaction. But his mind is almost gone from the agony, it won't be long before he turns feral again. You bite your lip, thinking about Laura and the others in the Empire State. Nathan has the gem that can change the God-King back and he's stuck here, with you. You feel the same fear in the God-King's mind. He's determined to hold out this time, but it's not looking good.

You want to reach out, but you find yourself holding back. You want to call out, let him feel your compassion and care for him. You want to comfort him, to let him know that you're there, that you're listening. But if he heard you what would he do?  
He'd shout at you, tell you to leave. He might even hurt you. He wouldn't want your pity or your solidarity. A mortal child trying to comfort a God? How stupid would that be?  
So you sit and bite your lip and try to work out how to proceed.

It takes a while for you to realise you're being shown this. It isn't your connection with the God-King that's creating the link. Someone's started the torture, then synced the images up to your mind and sent it like a cable package to your frontal lobe. Torture per view. Free for active participants and their students.  
You shift uneasily. 

“JARVIS?”  
“Yes?”  
“If you wanted someone to come to Stark Tower and you had a personal link to their television set... If you would make them watch... And you were an utter bastard who was in control of someone they cared for...” You pause thinking. “Would you show them being tortured to try and draw them out?”  
“That's a very specific question.” JARVIS says thoughtfully. “I think you know the answer.”  
“Well. Maybe.” You bite at your bottom lip again. “But what if the person you wanted was weaker than you and you knew where they lived. Why would you bother trying to draw them out?”  
“A perverse sense of satisfaction perhaps?”  
One of Mr Stark's Iron Man suits walks into the room carrying a tray of scrambled eggs and coffee. It puts it on the table by the bed.  
“Thank you, JARVIS.”  
“You are welcome.” 

You eat slowly, remembering that day, so long ago, when the God-King made you scrambled eggs. When he changed the deal to make you feel more secure. A moment of guilt after threatening to suffocate and rape you. He's an asshole, a terrible person. And yet he isn't. He's so many different things to you now. Master and mentor and captor and friend... Well almost friend. He protects you, even when he hurts you. Sometimes he hurts you because it's the only way to protect you. To shield you from a person who can pull him away and torture him and make you watch.  
Is this a test? Is the awful Void God testing you? Seeing how you will react to this? 

You munch on the breakfast, sipping at the coffee. You move away from the show, trying to consider. What if the only way the torture will stop is if you reach out?  
“JARVIS?”  
“Yes?”  
“What if...” You blow on the hot coffee. “What if the only way to stop the person being tortured is if you go to save them? Even if you know you can't save them? Because that's what the torturer wants?”  
“Is Loki trying to lure you from Stark Tower by hurting someone you love?” And JARVIS is still being polite, but you can hear the reproach in his voice. He doesn't like the God-King at all.  
“No. He wouldn't. He'd come and bring me back if he could. He knows I can't leave.” You sigh. “It's the God-King that's being tortured.”  
“Oh? By whom?”  
“Someone much, much worse.”  
“But surely they know that you cannot leave, either.”  
“Well, I could, with my mind. There's an opening I could reach through. But once I reach out, I don't know what could happen.”  
“Could he trap you?”  
“Easily.”  
JARVIS goes quiet and you can almost hear him thinking.

“But if you too become trapped, then what would be the point?” He asks after a few minutes.  
“To save the God-King.”  
“Does he need you to save him?”  
“This is bad, JARVIS. I mean he's tough, way tougher than me, but...”  
“You owe him nothing.” JARVIS says sharply, surprising you. “Or have you forgotten the time he nearly threw you from this building?”  
“I'll never forget that, thank you.” You say, annoyed.  
“Then why help a being who would do that to you? Just to get at Mr Stark?”  
“He... Urgh... He...” You rub your forehead. “It's complicated, okay?”  
“I would not go.”  
“You'd let him be tortured?”  
“I did not say that.” And JARVIS' voice softens. “I would find another way. One that does not put you in peril as well.”  
You shrug and shake your head in frustration.

“What if there is no other way?”  
“Then make sure you are prepared.” JARVIS sighs. “Mr Stark seemed to be reckless, but he always had the mathematics of the situation mapped out in his head. He was always aware of the risks and the variables, even if he often pushed beyond the realms of my advice. If you choose to go, I cannot stop you and I feel that you are going to go. From what I have seen, that is who you are and I respect the fact that you can forgive someone who has done you so much wrong. Forgive them to the point of wanting to save them from harm. I do not think it is advisable, but I will not stop you. Just make sure you are prepared.”  
“Okay.” You nod. “Thank you, JARVIS.”  
“I am always here to advise.” JARVIS says and his voice turns dry. “And to care for your body while I await your return. I will also make sure Mr Drake and Mr Barton are aware of the situation.”  
“Only after I'm gone, okay?”  
JARVIS sighs again, the weight of world on his polite, English shoulders.  
“As you wish.”  
“You're the best, JARVIS.”  
“So I have been told.” He says, his voice tired. “Just please come back. And in a timely fashion.”  
“That's top of my list.” You promise him.

You sit in bed, sipping your coffee and trying to work out how to proceed. You're going, there is no question. Not just for the God-King, but for Laura and everyone else who might suffer from your inaction. But you need a plan. You're no match for the God-King's Master. He'll open you up and read you like a book. And there are things you don't want him to know, things that will compromise the God-King's plans. 

He had to have seen this coming... Did see it coming... He came to warn you.  
Right.  
The package he gave you, last time he was in your mind.  
You lie back in bed, making sure that you're safe and comfortable. You don't know how long you're going to be away and a crick in the neck when you wake up would be the last thing you need. Then you move into the recesses of your thoughts, stepping into the cavern of your own mind and search out the package the God-King left for you. 

*

It takes longer to find than you expected. It isn't where you thought it was and it takes a while to search it out. It's big parcel too, tied tightly with the God-King's golden threads. You reach out to open it and snatch your hand back quickly. Something you can't see is between you and the memories. Something that has been lying in wait for you. Something that moved the memories, knowing that you would search for them.  
“Come out.” You say loudly. “I know you're there.”  
You look around, you can feel whatever it is surrounding you, watching and expectant.  
“If you want to talk, then talk. I'm listening.” 

“Hello, Child.” The voice is like smoke, multifaceted and chiming. It sounds like several voices talking at once, both male and female, old and youthful. They speak in unison. It shimmers and flickers, coiling and coalescing into a large grey snake with deep blue eyes. Its gaze meets yours and you freeze in a moment of gut-clenching terror. A mouse seeing it's predator. The snake slowly wraps around you, constricting you gently but firmly. Within moments it's a fully-formed physical thing and you can't move. It's all scale and muscle and incredibly strong. 

“Who are you? What are you doing?” You ask it with alarm and it laughs.  
“I am not you. Nor am I your Master, but something inbetween. Something thought into life. But who created me...” The snake presses its flat nose against your own, its scales smooth and cold and hard to the touch. “In truth I do not know.” It squeezes you in a playful manner, making you choke, but not harming you. Not yet. “I awoke in your mind the last time your Master interacted with you.”  
“Awoke? You were brought here?”  
“I do not know. I do not think so.” The snake puts its head on one side. “But I have been watching you ever since.”  
“Then you know what's happening. You know that I need those memories, or I might die.” You push against the coils. “And if you are in my mind, then you cannot kill me, or you will die too.”  
“Perhaps.” The snake agrees. “I am new to life. I do not think I like you, but I do not choose to die, not yet.” 

The snake unwinds from around your body. Loosening its coils one at a time, letting you pull yourself free. It's a massive beast, taller than you are, even fully coiled. If it was stretched out it would reach twenty-five or thirty feet. It's as thick as your mid-drift and its head is as big as your own, though flatter and sleeker. It's scales are like matt glass and smoke curls beneath them, giving it its grey hue. The eyes shine like lighted sapphires. 

It moves to the package.  
“This memory is not for you.” It tells you firmly.  
“Then why give it to me?” You ask, reaching out for it.  
The package shivers and starts to fade. The closer you move towards it, the harder it is to find it. You stop in confusion, take a few steps back and the memory reappears, packaged and waiting for you.  
“I don't get it.”  
The snake moves right up to the memory and touches the package with its tongue.  
“There are other memories in your mind like this.” It tells you. “Hidden from you, but not from me.”  
“So, he wants me to find them?” You sigh in frustration. “I don't have time for this lesson...”  
“I do not think that is the lesson.” The snake moves up to you, it's progress so smooth and rapid that you involuntarily take a few steps back.  
“Then what?” You say, putting your hands out to forestall its motion towards you. The snake pauses, looking at you fingers, it flickers its tongue, tickling your palms.

“I think he wants to show you how to hide them from yourself.”  
“So he's showing me this invisible package, so I can work out how it's done?” You ask, your thoughts whirling as you try to comprehend what the God-King's message might be. “That memories can be hidden, even when they are put, fully-formed into someone else's mind? He wants me to hide parts of myself?”  
That snake nods.  
“Because if I hide them then Thanos won't know I have them and won't read them...”  
“Thanos...” The snake says and you feel it rifle through your memories. You wince.  
“Stop that.”  
“Howard's Child...”  
“Stop it!” You snap and the snake lifts it head and stares directly into your face. You feel yourself freezing again. You don't know what this creature is, but it doesn't have to be friendly. You know a predator when you see one and your hind-brain quivers with fear at its existence in your head. It was telling the truth, it isn't part of you, nor part of the God-King. It's something else, something that could be very deadly if it chose to be.  
“These are the first things you have to hide.” It tells you. “The fact you know his name and the code word you use when he's around to talk about him. He cannot know either.”  
“Because the God-King shouldn't have told me.”  
“Exactly.”

The snake disappears and you can feel it in your head, hunting. It arrives back a few moment's later, carrying every memory of Thanos and Howard's Child in its large coils.  
“Put them in my mind.” The snake tells you. “And I will hide from this terrible being. He will not know I am here. He will not look for me. So he will not find me and that which you wish to hide.”  
“Why would you help me?” You ask and the snake twists as if its shrugging.  
“I do not want to die.” It tells you. “And right now, your mind is my home.”  
“What are you?” You ask and the snake does the same strange shrugging motion that ripples through its body.  
“You do not know, so I do not know. I was born with thoughts of my own, but all I know of the world is what I can find in your head.” The snake starts to unwind around the memories, pushing them with its nose into a line in front of you. 

“Why are you a snake?” You ask it and it laughs.  
“Because you are afraid of them.” It says. “And I do not trust you.”  
“I'm not scared of snakes.” You say.  
“But you are afraid of me.” It's not a question, it can feel your fear.  
“Well, yeah, duh. You're a massive snake. Any person would be scared of you.”  
“And so this is the form I choose.” The snake agrees.  
“Because you need me to be afraid of you?”  
“For now. Until I know what I am. Yes.” The snake nods its flat head. “Because it will keep me safe.”  
“I wouldn't hurt you.” You say.  
“Yes you would. I am an intruder in your mind. Once this is over, you will try to remove me.”  
“But you don't want to be here... Right?”  
“I do not know what I want.” The snake gives a small hiss. “Other than wishing to continue existing. And I have learned from your mind that if you want to survive, you cannot show weakness.”  
“Huh.” You say. “That isn't totally true.”  
“Right now it is, and right now I want to live.” The snake looks at you and again you feel that clench of fear in your guts. “And so I show myself from a position of strength.”

You crouch down to look at the memories the snake has picked out, they are soft swirling balls of colour. Like fragile iridescent bubbles. You touch the first one.  
_You were in Stark Tower and the God-King was healing you after almost throwing you off the building. His touch was gentle and he smiled sadly when you said you hated him. You took it back almost immediately, because you don't hate him, not really, only occasionally. And he told you how he thought he'd hated his family, before he'd met Him. He had whispered that name, the first time you heard of Him. Then he told you that it didn't matter._

You move to the second.  
_You're in a memory of Vanaheim, a construct made by the God-King to comfort you after your first murder._  
_Ilya..._  
_He cooks you venison and hugs you close for the first time. You're fully honest with him, how he makes you feel, how scared you are. It makes you cry and he looks embarrassed. He tells you how he wishes things could have been different. How he would have loved to take you to Asgard and show you the universe._

“These are my good memories of him.” You say, a little sadly. “I don't want to lose them.”  
“It will be temporary.” The snake tells you.  
“How can I trust you?”  
“How can you not?”  
You look up into those bright blue eyes and you sigh.  
“There's another memory. A recent one, when I saw the yellow power the God-King used to gain entry into Stark Tower. He said it was our secret and I want to honour that.”  
The snake disappears and moment later returns with that memory in its coils as well. It sets it down at the end of the line, along with the rest of the memories you don't want to lose. 

With a deep regret you pick up the Vanaheim memory and offer it to the creature. It takes it in its jaws and swallows it down. You blink as you feel something shiver out of your mind, but you can't for the life of you remember what it was. A moment of searing loss and then, nothing...  
“And now the rest.” The snake says, nudging you with its great flat nose.  
One after another, you offer up the memories and let it take them away. By the end of it you're crying. It hurts so much, the loss is awful, but you know that if He reads them, then everything would be over. 

As the last memory fades, you look up at the great snake and struggle to remember why this is happening at all. It isn't like a hole in your mind, whatever has been taken is gone completely. You'd thought it would be like a missing tooth, that you could touch the gap with your tongue and feel the edges, but you can't. Their existence has sealed over neatly and you don't know where to start looking for them again.  
“What will you do now?” You ask it and it surges forward, wrapping you in its great coils. You give a cry of alarm, but your body freezes up and by the time you manage to put up a fight, it is far too late.  
“Now I will make you forget about me.” It says and two great fangs unhinge from the roof of its mouth. You try to struggle, but it's impossible and the snake strikes, pumping you full of a venom which seers through you like fire. It feels as if every inch of your wiring is burning, trying to melt its way out of your flesh. You scream and writhe within your coiled prison and the snake pulls back and watches you as its poison takes effect...

*

You're sitting in your mind, confused and alone.  
Smoke curls around you, drifting and coiling like a hundred tiny serpents. You catch one in your hand and watch as it fades away to nothing, leaving a small shimmer of blue in its wake. You close your palm around it and the blue glows through the gaps in your fingers. It makes a small sizzling noise as burns itself out. The rest of the tiny serpents do the same, flickering out one by one and leaving sharp afterglows in your eyesight. The images remain for several seconds before you manage to blink them all away. 

You get to your feet, cocking your head to one side, listening.  
You can hear the God-King screaming. He's far away and being tortured by his Master, one of the great Void Gods you never want to meet. The ones he told you about that morning, so long ago, when you gave him your life and he branded you with the circle on your palm.  
You look down at your hand, touching the gold with your fingers.  
You remember feeling the Void God in your mind once before, how he had been a howling gale to the small campfire of your existence. How you had almost been snuffed out by accident. So terrible and powerful and nameless.  
You shiver in fear.

But the God-King is screaming and you know you are the only one who can help. That you are being shown his pain, being invited to reach out, to come to his aid. You know it's probably a trap, you might never be allowed to return if you leave.  
But you focus on the God-King's location and you step out, anyway.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still moody, still sore, but getting better.  
> I can walk around the house and get the chores done now, so I'm feeling a bit better about my life and looking forward to being able to go out and about again in the next week or so. This bear likes their walks.
> 
> I know what's coming next and I really want to start steaming through this part of the story arc, so my goal is Monday, but if it's a few days late, don't hold it against me. My other project is due at the end of the month and takes priority. Also, due to frequent, unavoidable naps because of the healing process I'm having to manage my time a bit more strictly than usual.
> 
> But I am back on the Word Of Lies train and trying to keep to the timetable.  
> See you all at the next station. :)


	53. Finding Sanctuary.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can hear the God-King, actually physically hear his pain. He's no longer an echo in your mind. The God-King screaming in agony. You follow his cries, while doing your best to keep an eye on everything. You're not safe here, you don't know the area or the terrain. Though this stone is relatively smooth, with no large rocks or crags to hide anyone, and seems to be naturally formed, you're painfully aware that this whole thing isn't natural. Someone could come at you from any direction, You're not sure how the gravity works and you've seen enough sci-fi to know that if you're somewhere as artificial as this, what's down for you could well be different for a would be attacker. And they'd know the terrain far better than you ever could...
> 
> You wish Hawkeye were here...  
> Or even Nathan, for the extra set of eyes...  
> This whole thing screams 'Trap'...  
> You continue walking towards the screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is massive. Like 11k words massive.  
> I mean, this chapter is bigger than most short stories...
> 
> So it took me a long time to write and a long time to edit. But it's here for you.  
> Don't say I never give you anything. :)
> 
> If you've been reading this long, then I don't think I can warn for any more triggers.  
> You've made it this far, 53(!) chapters and this update involves the Other and Thanos, so...  
> That might be trigger warning enough?
> 
> Enjoy the update, see you on the other side.

*

The place is a desolate wasteland. You're still in your t-shirt and shorts and the rocks are cool and rough on your bare feet as you walk forward. You're surrounded by the universe, not just the darkness of a night sky but deep, star-scattered space and you turn on your heel to get a full three-sixty panorama as you walk. You haven't seen anything like this since the Bifrost and part of your mind wonders how far the atmosphere extends if it isn't thick enough to blot out the stars. Despite the black sky you can see very clearly and again, you can feel that small part of your brain, trained by Mr Stark, trying to make sense of how that is possible. If it's night, it should be dark – pitch black – and there are no light sources. And yet everything around you is clear as day. Not brightly lit, but not murky either. There are many other rocks floating in this vast space, as if it is some great artificially-made asteroid field. Some are far larger than this one, some much smaller, all floating in what seems to be a complex orbiting network. None of them have any visible sources of propulsion, even though they appear to be in holding patterns. Some even change direction as you watch, with no obvious indicators as to how that is possible. None of them come close to the one you're walking on.  
You worry if you've been stranded. If you'll starve to death in this barren place, your body growing weaker back on Earth, no matter what JARVIS tries to do to save you...  
You shake your head.  
It's too late now for any regrets. 

You can hear the God-King, actually physically hear his pain. He's no longer an echo in your mind. The God-King screaming in agony. You follow his cries, while doing your best to keep an eye on everything. You're not safe here, you don't know the area or the terrain. Though this stone is relatively smooth, with no large rocks or crags to hide anyone, and seems to be naturally formed, you're painfully aware that this whole thing isn't natural. Someone could come at you from any direction, You're not sure how the gravity works and you've seen enough sci-fi to know that if you're somewhere as artificial as this, what's down for you could well be different for a would be attacker. And they'd know the terrain far better than you ever could...

You wish Hawkeye were here...  
Or even Nathan, for the extra set of eyes...  
This whole thing screams 'Trap'...  
You continue walking towards the screams.

The God-King is in a rectangular pool, not much bigger than he is, but it's very deep. The water swirls with gold, bubbling and boiling and occasionally you can catch a clear glimpse of the dark fathoms beneath him. His arms and legs are chained at the corners of the pool so that he can't go fully under, but he can drown, eventually, when exhaustion finally takes him. The links give him no space to manoeuvre, but are just long enough that if he doesn't fight, his head and chest will sink about an inch below the waterline. The boiling water stops him being able to float on the surface, while at the same time cooking and blistering his skin. You can see him, his eyes glazed, chanting a spell that protects him from the worst of it, struggling to concentrate as he is buffeted by the violent water. As you watch a new wave of heat surges up from below in a shower of bubbling death that makes you takes several rapid steps backwards, so you don't get caught by the scalding droplets. The God-King starts to scream, his mind scrabbling to keep the spell active, to keep his hide whole as the terrible heat engulfs him, going up his nose and into his mouth and burning all the way down to his stomach. 

He's close to breaking, his throat is raw and bleeding from the constant incantation, interspersed with howls of agony. His mind worn with worry at what will happen when he loses this fight, while a part of him wonders if this is it, if his Master will finally let him die. A part of him as desperate for the release of death as the rest of him is terrified of losing his life.  
At least he would be able to rest...  
No more planning, no more contingencies, no more battles...  
He longs for death almost as much as he fights against it.

The bubbling begins to die down again and, with caution, you walk up to the edge. Your skin twitches at the heat. You're no Asgardian, you touch that swirling golden water and you're dead. So no heroic diving in to save him. You walk to each chain in turn, but again the heat conducting down the metal is too much. Even several inches away from the source, the heat is unbearable for your skin. Even if you were strong enough to pull them free from the bedrock, your hands would be damaged beyond repair before you could begin.

You reach out to him.  
“Master. Majesty. I'm here.”  
His mind recoils at your touch, his eyes remain glazed, looking up into the vastness of space.  
“How do I save you?” You ask, touching his mind again, gentle, reassuring.  
His mind grabs you so hard you're physically dragged to you knees.  
_Helpmehelpmehelpme_  
“How?” You ask him. “How do I help you?”  
A wavering image. Beside his head on the rock, ten golden circles where two spread hands might go. You have to crawl to where he shows you, he's not letting you leave, keeping you within a foot of the raging water. You find the circles, with your hands spread wide you can just manage to touch them all at once, pressing down with each finger and thumb tip simultaneously. 

The rock shivers. White light cuts through, showing a sixteen inch square where your hands rest on the floor. It rumbles and begins to push upward. You keep your hands on the circles and stand as it shakes with a slow rumbling as it pushes out of the floor. It stops too high to be comfortable. It's not built for you, but for someone even taller than the God-King. You can still reach and make out the top of the podium, though your hands and elbows are almost square with your shoulders. Once the podium stops moving the top shivers again and breaks open. You quickly move your hands away as it folds in on itself and then out again, creating a tablet-like touch interface on a thick cylindrical rod. The rod continues to push up, until it's way above your head. Definitely designed for someone far taller than you are. It takes a few minutes of walking around it to work out the hinge arrangement. A few minutes longer to get it to bend down to your head height.  
And all the while the God-King grows more desperate and distant. 

You can't understand the interface. Not at all. It's far too alien.  
“Majesty. Master. Help me.” You reach out to him again and for a moment there's nothing but incoherent babbling. Begging at you, clawing at you, trying to get you to enter the water.  
It's all you can do to resist the deadly pull.  
You grip tightly to the podium and struggle against the suicidal impulse to leap in and save him.  
Then.  
“Child.” The voice is his, a whisper, lost in the dark.  
A sequence appears in your head.  
You start to press buttons on the tablet as rapidly as you can with one hand while still clinging desperately to the podium as the crazed part of his mind continues to try to reel you in.

The machine makes a strange affirmative chirruping noise and the chains, suddenly and without warning, release the God-King's body.  
And he goes under. 

You wail in panic as you watch him disappear. His mind cuts off and the urge to enter the water leaves you so quickly that you over-compensate and fall backwards onto the stone. You scrabble desperately to you feet.  
“Majesty?”  
Nothing.  
“Master!”  
Nothing.  
He's gone.  
He's gone.

You run to the edge, wanting the dive in, knowing that you can't. You dance at the edge, circling, circling, for what feels like forever.  
Then he breaks the surface on the other side and you run to him...  
“Stop!” His voice brings you short from touching him. “You'll burn.”  
You nod, biting your lower lip, still moving from foot to foot anxiously. He mutters out a spell, wincing at the effort it costs him. The red welts and lesions across his body begin to fade in front of your eyes, leaving soft pale skin, fully healed and unblemished.  
“The podium.” He isn't looking at you, his eyes fixed on the rock as he gathers the strength to pull himself from the water. “At the base. They'll be a towel and a robe. Bring them to me.” 

You run to the podium as the God-King climbs out of the water with difficulty. His movements are slow and stilted, filled with pain. The spell starts to travel down his body as he collapses to the rock, sighing in relief. At the base of the podium is another gold circle. You press your thumb to it and the front opens with a click, swinging outwards like a cupboard door. Inside, on two shelves, the towel and the robe. Both white. You pull them out, gathering them awkwardly in your hands, and hurry back to him. 

By the time you get back the God-King has lifted himself up and is crouching on the ground, his strength already visibly returning. Asgardians are tougher than anything you could believe. Both his hands are touching the rough stone as if it is the most precious thing in the world to him. He strokes the surface, a rueful smile on his face. His skin is glistening with molten gold. You throw the robe to the ground and the towel over his shoulders, careful not to touch his steaming skin and then begin to rub him dry, removing the remains of the soft, bubbling metal. The towel is thick enough to insulate your hands for the task. It feels like cotton, but cotton would singe at these temperatures. It wouldn't insulate you either. Another planned item, left by someone who knew how fragile mortal hands could be. 

The God-King lifts his right hand and looks at his fingers.  
“Gold.” He says distantly. “For a Prince of Asgard.”  
He snorts derisively and shakes his head.  
“It's real gold. Molten especially for me.” The God-King looks at you, still smiling softly, seemingly spaced out. He's still not fully back in his right mind. But at least he isn't feral. He lets you towel him dry as best you can, taking instruction and moving when you ask him. You keep trying to touch his mind, to reassure him, but he's locked you out.

Eventually he stands, taking the towel to dry his hair himself. He discards the towel when he's done, doing his best to comb his hair out neatly with his fingers, scowling at the tangles he finds there. The cooling flecks of gold in his dark hair make him look regal and unworldly. A tall alien prince with his mortal child servant. You feel dislocated and out of place for a few long moments. You feel small and vulnerable and helpless. Compared to him, you're pathetic. The feeling so keen that it's painful in your chest. You'll never be that awe inspiring, that strong, that powerful. Able to shrug off death like it's almost nothing. You'll never be anything more than a pet, an entertainment, a fleeting distraction in his long lifespan. You'll never be anything but his child. 

To distract yourself, you gather the robe and find the neckline, then let the rest of it fall, so that it's the right way up for him. You find the sleeves and pull them straight. He finishes fussing with his hair and turns, spreading his arms in an open invitation for you to dress him. You move up behind him and guide his hands to the sleeves. He shrugs on the robe and pulls at it until it fits neatly.  
“The rules.” He says, his voice firm. “No magic unless my Master gives permission. No speaking unless you are given permission. In fact, you will do nothing without permission. Am I clear?”  
You bow your head.  
“Yes, Master.”  
“Trust you to be stupid enough to fall for such a simple, obvious trap.” He glowers down at you. 

You bite against the come-back on your lips. This is neither the time or the place. You're being watched, both of you are. If you talk back now, he'll have to punish you. Harshly.  
“I'm sorry.” You murmur. “But when I heard you. I had to come...” You drop to one knee, your hands by your sides. “I'm sorry.”  
“Right hand over your heart when you kneel to me.” The God-King snaps. “Really, Child, it's as if you have no manners at all.”  
You obey, clasping your right arm over your chest.  
“That's better.” He nods. “Given the heat of the moment...” He smiles. “...I'll allow the discourtesy. This one time.”  
“Thank you, Master.”  
“Now rise. Our Master is waiting to meet you.” He looks you up and down with a tut of dismay. “You have no better clothing?”  
“It's the only thing in Stark Tower that fits me.” You say contritely, getting to your feet again, but keeping your head bowed.  
“No matter.” The God-King sighs. “It will have to do.”  
He starts to walk and you follow, trailing respectfully behind him.  


*

There's a small rock hovering at the edge of the one on which you're standing. It's hardly a few feet across, but has a smooth top. It has the same rough formation and even the same lines of crystal and colouring through its structure as the main asteroid. It's level with the ground, a few inches out from touching. The God-King gestures you towards it. It's barely big enough for both of you to stand on and you shiver in fear at the bottomless expanse. The gap is only small, but the vast distance below it – almost an infinite drop into space – makes it seem like it's insurmountable.  
What if you miss? What if the stone tilts? You'll never stop falling...

The God-King moves out of the way, wanting you to step on first and you stand at the edge, paralysed, breathing rapidly, unable to move.  
“Come on.” The God-King snaps. “Don't be foolish.”  
You glance at him, at his frustration. His temper will be unstable at the moment, fanned by the recent pain. You can't risk angering him.  
You take a deep breath to steady yourself and hold it as you step over the gap, trying hard not to look down. There are stars shining beneath the space, an infinite drop...  
The small rock doesn't move or pitch at your new weight on its surface. It remains solid, like it isn't just hovering there, in the middle of nowhere... This is so weird...

The God-King gives you a short while to compose yourself, his face amused as you look at your feet, pushing at the edges of the area experimentally with your toes, testing the stability of the structure as much as you dare. You keep glancing back at him for reassurance, afraid that he might not be coming, that maybe he has different orders. Once the God-King's sure you've settled he steps on behind you, so close to your back he's almost touching. He holds your shoulders and presses you close to him. You stand, feeling his warmth around you, his strength and comfort and you give out a long exhalation.  
You hadn't realised you'd been holding your breath.  
Then the rock gives a little jerk as it starts to move and you squeal in fright. 

The God-King laughs at you. He strokes your hair with one hand and rubs your arm with another. Soft, gentle gestures to try and help you to relax. You look away from the edge and up at him instead. You want to curl against him, to hug him for reassurance, but you know he would deny you. Simple gestures are all he can bestow right now. He can't show more. You're being observed, weighed and measured. Laughing at and reassuring a child is fine, but showing too much affection for you could well be deadly. Anything beyond caring for a mortal gift for his Master could result in your death and a far worse punishment for him than being chained in a pit of boiling water and molten gold, waiting to drown. 

You reach out for his mind and again find no way in. He shakes his head at you.  
“Stop that.”  
You look at him with a hurt expression. He narrows his eyes and you look away.  
“Sorry.” You whisper and he squeezes your shoulder.  
“You will find no comfort there.” He tells you and look back up at him.  
“But I'm so used to it.” You tell him. “Why are you closed to me?”  
“For your own good.” He tells you.  
You look away again, your eyes drawn to the bottom-less drop around you and you shiver.  
“I don't understand...”  
“And there is no time to explain. But here, you will remain in your own head and I will stay in mine. You have become too reliant on our sharing. It is time for you to grow up a little and stand on your own two feet.”  
You can tell by his tone that this isn't the real reason, but also know not to push him.  
You nod, breathing deeply and trying not to freak out. 

“But this is all so... All so weird.” You say in complaint. “And I'm just my mind, a physical representation, but still... I mean, I know my body is back in Stark Tower, but...” You shiver again. “This is all so real.”  
“It is real. This place...” The God-King looks around. “It makes it real. If you're hurt here the cuts and bruises will show on your skin. If you die here, your body will perish.” He strokes your hair again. “If you lose a limb, it will atrophy and will need to be removed from your body, or it will rot, poison and kill you.”  
You shiver in horror.  
“So be very, very good. Understand me?”  
“Yes.” You stutter it out. 

“My Master is not in the best of moods, but he is intrigued by you, so you have that at least.” The God-King says. “And there will be other family there.”  
You look at him confused.  
“You mean you have other brothers and sisters...? Like, like Thor?” You ask and he sighs.  
“Some of His children may well be there.” He qualifies. “Not Asgardians. Children from all over the universe, but none from Asgard.” He pauses. “Well, except for me, of course.” His tone is dry.  
You nod.  
“Okay. Thank you for telling me.”  
“You should be prepared. One day they might be your brothers and sisters.” He pauses. “Real adopted ones, not like Laura.”  
“Legal adoption?” You're not sure you're happy about that.  
“Well...” The God-King shrugs. “As legal as anything is out here.”

You lean into him. You're scared out of your mind and the more you learn the more afraid you become. You're a kid, a mortal kid, you shouldn't be out here. Not with Gods and monsters, standing on a floating rock taking you who-knows where. Not about to meet with a God of the Void and his terrible children. The God-King feels you starting to shake uncontrollably, he gently wraps an arm around your chest, trying his best to comfort you without showing too much care or worry for your condition. It makes it worse, knowing that if things go wrong he won't be able to protect you. You want to fall against him sobbing, begging him to take you home, to take you away. Instead you take his hand and carefully push it away. You start to take deep breaths, listening to the thudding of your heart in your ears. Working to make it calmer, slower, less fearful.  
You can feel the God-King's approval. 

“Don't you hate the drop?” You ask him after a few minutes. “There isn't much space here, y'know...? And this is worse, way, way worse than that time at Stark Tower...”  
_What if he's been told to throw you off at the half-way point? What if this is his test, not yours?_  
“You get used to it.” The God-King tells you, his voice calm and conversational enough to pull your thoughts away from that particular cycle of terror. “But yes, I can understand how it might distress you.”  
He points off in the distance. “That is where we are going. Only a few minutes more.”  
It's a larger collection of rocks, maybe even some sort of building. As you get closer it looks more like some sort of observatory, with large metal stairs leading up to a flat summit.  
“Why is everything made from rocks here? I mean there aren't any buildings, not that I can see. How does it all work?”  
“You are feeling better.” The God-King smiles. “Your curiosity is returning.”  
“Well?” You look around at the other formations around you. “Is it an inappropriate question?”  
“Not at all. The Master likes the simplicity of having a giant world that is just made up of rocks floating in space. A seemingly simple and natural asteroid formation.”  
“But it's all so complex. All of it moving to some giant unseen pattern.” You look around.  
“Indeed, a beautiful, well-constructed paradox.” The God-King agrees. “And only He knows where you will be taken. Sometimes it is to a bedroom, carved into one of the larger rocks, where you can rest and recuperate. Other times it is to somewhere... well...” He shrugs, looking away. “Somewhere worse. And only he knows the layout. It's moving all the time.”  
“So you never know if you're going to be rewarded or punished?”  
“Exactly. You step on one of these smaller, transport stones and you hope for the best.”  
“But we're definitely going over there?”  
“Oh yes, this time there is no question. He wants to meet you and that's where he always has his audiences.”  
You take another few deep breaths.

“It is allowable for you to be afraid. Far stronger beings have stood where you are now and wet themselves approaching this place. There is no shame in your fear.”  
“Are you afraid?” You regret the question as soon as you say it. “Nevermind. I'm sorry. Not... Not thinking straight.”  
“It is quite alright.” The God-King laughs again, stroking and smoothing your hair. “I have never wet myself and I have always stood tall. I have always been ready for what is to come.” His voice is slightly sarcastic, a little sardonic. He's still trying to comfort you and you appreciate the effort.  
“I'm not going to wet myself.” You assure him. “But I might shake a little.”  
“Then you are doing very well.” The God-King says. “And you should be proud of yourself.”  
You rest back into his fingers in your hair, tacitly asking him to continue. His stroking feels good on your scalp, calming in it's gentle rhythm. He understands your request and continues to play with your hair as the rock moves ever closer to your final destination. 

*

When you get to the steps the God-King lifts his hands from your head and shoulders and gently presses his fingers to the small of your back, urging you to take the lead. You glance up at him and nod, again taking a deep breath as you step over the vast drop and back on to solid ground. The steps are huge, made for someone taller than you and you start to wonder how big these Void Gods are. Each step is well over a foot in height and you have to bend and lift your knee just past its comfort point every time you climb the next step. You have to take several walking paces per elevation as well. It is not an easy climb and you soon find yourself out of breath. Every time you pause the God-King stops as well, keeping a few footfalls behind you, but never coming to your aid. He's here, but he cannot help you and you've never felt so alone.

At the top of the staircase, there's this tall creature, like a Chitauri, but wearing far more ornate clothing. His robes are a greyish black and a deep hood hides most of his sickly pale flesh. Gold patches cover his eyes, but the way he looks down at you indicates he can see you very well. His body language is a study of destain and loathing of your presence.

You take the initiative and drop to one knee in front of him, putting your hand over your chest as you would for the God-King. The God-King steps up behind you, his head bowed, but does not take the knee.  
“This?” The creature hisses out. “This is the one you've been training. This... little... thing?”  
“Yes. This is my magical study. My little child.” The God-King confirms. His voice is respectful enough, but his tone has an edge to it. He has no love of this tall being before him.  
“My Master was expecting something far more impressive.” The robed Chitauri growls out and you keep your eyes fixed on the ground.  
“Well, we shouldn't all judge a book by it's cover, should we?” The God-King says lightly. “This little one has hidden depths.”  
“This is the one? The one who controlled the Tesseract so deftly, the one who stole from you?”  
“Well...” The God-King says depreciatively. “I think it may be more that the Tesseract controlled the child, not the other way around.”  
“How is that possible?”  
“Shall we go to the audience and find out? The child is ready for questioning.” 

The creature snarls, but nods.  
“Stand, my Child and make greeting.” The God-King says gravely. “This is the Other, Supreme Commander of the Chitauri and Voice of our Master.”  
You get you your feet, your head still bowed.  
“Greetings to you, Supreme Commander. I am awed and honoured to be in your presence.” You say politely, giving a second, small half-bow as you speak.  
“Well, at least you have taken the time to train it.” The Other says grudgingly.  
“It is, indeed, very house-broken.” The God-King agrees. “Mortals can be difficult to train, but this one was more than compliant.”  
You swallow hard and continue to look at your feet.  
You cannot afford to speak out of turn and fuck this up.  
You have to take it all, no matter how humiliating. You have to be well-trained. Too much is at stake. 

“Could you not have found better clothing for it?” The Other is looking at you intently, even though he has no eyes. It makes your skin itch. You can feel his gaze, his contempt, travelling up and down your body.  
“This is what it is wearing on its physical from on Midgard. I endeavoured to wait for your permission before garbing it in proper attire. For anything I give the child here would be illusionary and I didn't want you to think that I brought any trickery with this little one. It is dressed as it is as a sign of respect, not out of discourtesy.”  
“You may dress it appropriately for this audience.” The Other agrees, his voice doesn't seem to be able to convey anything other than superior destain.  
“Very well.” And you feel the soft shimmer of golden light against your skin as the God-King dresses you in the same black and green leather you wore when you were at the wedding. Expensive and tasteful, but still very much a servant's garb.  
“Better.” The Other says sharply. “Much better.”  
“I live to please.” The God-King says dryly and there is a long pause as the Other decides whether to take offence at his tone.  
He decides against it and you start breathing again.  
“Come.” The Other grates out. “Our Master wishes to see you.” He turns and walks away and you follow behind him respectfully, the God-King at your right-hand side.

The observatory space isn't as big as you thought it would be. Big walls of rock rise up to either side, making the whole thing feel a bit more like an audience chamber without a roof. A huge figure sits on a floating golden throne with his back to you. He's so high up that you have to crane your neck to look at him. Underneath the throne, sitting on some rough hewn stone steps are two female aliens. One has green skin and is unbelievably beautiful, with pretty silver lines running across her body and a tight leather combat suit around her slim figure. She has long, dark hair with red strands around her face and twin swords at her belt. She's being super casual, pretending not to look at you, while eating a large rinded slice of fruit. But you've been around Hawkeye and Black Widow enough to know that she's appraising you.  
The second female is just as slim, but blue and hard. Any beauty she might have is removed by her solid dark stare, fierce expression and confrontational body-language. She looks like some sort of android, or maybe a cyborg, she has no hair or eyebrows at all. He face is lined with different shades of blue and her eyes are dark holes. She's sat bolt upright and is looking right at you, checking you out which a cold, hard dislike that makes you shiver inside. 

Instinct kicks in and you go to back away. But the God-King is ready and before you can take a single step his hand is splayed across the small of your back, keeping you in place. He takes a few steps forward, pushing you gently but irresistibly forward until you stand a few feet from the female aliens and almost right underneath the giant throne. You look up at the Void God and your mouth goes dry. His back is to you, but he's so massive, at least eight feet tall and broad at the shoulder. You can't see him, but you can feel him, his terrible mind, his awful presence. The God-King presses your shoulder urging you to kneel and your knees buckle in fear and you drop to the ground. You lower your head and press you arm over you heart. The God-King follows suit and moment later.  
“Here is the Child, my Master.” He says, his voice quiet and more respectful than you've ever heard it before. “As you requested.” 

There is a long drawn out silence, and then:  
“It is a pathetic thing.” The Other hisses out. “Young and soft and weak. You expect our Great Leader to believe that this was the one who stole from you? That this is the one you have chosen, out of all the Realm of Earth to bring before him?”  
“It is young yes, and weak. Such is the stock of Midgard.” The God-King looks up at the throne. “But so full of potential. I found it stumbling though the wreckage of the war and fancied a pet. But this young one is far more than that. Clever, resourceful... With the right training and a careful guiding hand, it will become strong.”  
“Your hand?” The Others voice is scathing.  
“I know the mortals well. You must start when they are young. Their lives are so fleeting that if you discover a child with potential, you must begin its training at once. But it is not ready, my Master. It still has far to go, before it can join the ranks of your Children.”  
“Then how did it accomplish the feat with the Tesseract?”  
“It is naïve, malleable and so very sensitive. It can hear the Tesseract singing in its confinement and found a way to commune with the energy within. And the Tesseract took advantage.” The God-King sighs. “It too, sees the potential in this little one.”  
“An Infinity Stone, wasting its time with a mortal which has barely even crawled from the womb?” The Other, you decide, likes to question everything with contempt.  
“That is correct.” The God-King doesn't take his eyes from the throne above him. “This young thing is raw, inexperienced. I meant to bring it before you once it had learnt a few more lessons. Once it was ready for your gaze...” The God-King looks down at you, his face hard and expressionless. “But children rarely do as they are told.” 

You lower your head further under his glare, your eyes moving wildly as you try to think of a way to escape. You have no friends here. You should not have come.  
You're going to die and there is no escape.  
You swallow convulsively, shivering in fear, waiting for the Void God to speak.  
He says nothing, but he raises his right hand from the throne and gestures the God-King away.  
His hand is large, as big as the green monster you faced in the Battle for New York. But his skin is purple and lined like the rock of this place. You catch a glint of gold on his forearm.  
The God-King nods, lowers his head in a deep bow and then stands in one elegant movement. He walks away, leaving you on your knees before the throne.  
Completely and utterly alone. 

The blue female rises from the steps and strides forward, she stands over you.  
“Get up.” Her voice has strange mechanical resonances.  
You do as she says.  
Before you can react she grabs you forcefully by the skin of your throat, pinching in hard under the collar and lifting you onto you tiptoes. You choke as the collar pulls tight, not constricting, but very, very painful. You flail for one desperate moment, but her arms are metal and her grip is unbreakable. She's so much stronger than you it's insane. 

Your self-preservation kicks in just before you put your circle to her skin. No, you can't do that, you can't show your full hand. You might win, might... But you're surrounded and out-classed on almost every level. You only have one chance at using any surprise advantage and now is not the time. The God-King taught you better. So instead you go limp, gripping her arm just enough to keep your airways open and nothing else.  
“Pathetic.” The blue woman snarls. She moves her head to one side, looking you up and down. “This is what you bring us? Out of all the potential warriors on Earth?”  
She drops you and gives a hard shove that slams you to the ground, scraping your shins and knees on the hard rock, ripping the soft illusionary leather. You reach down and touch the burning wounds and come up with blood. You swallow hard. 

Back home, they're going to be freaking out...

She draws a long thin blade from her belt, all sci-fi silver and deadly, sharp intent.  
“What do you think, sister?” She calls back to the green female, still sitting, finishing her meal. “An evening's entertainment?”  
You glance at the God-King. He's watching, his face impassive, his hands behind his back. No help coming from there.  
“Don't look at him.” The blue female scoffs. “You're ours now, little sibling.”  
The green sister finishes her fruit, throwing the rind casually over the edge of the rock and into space. She stands in one fluid movement, takes a moment to brush imaginary dust off her arms and legs, then walks over to stand next to her sister. They both appraise you as you sit on the floor, your legs drawn under you to ease the discomfort of the grazes, watching them both, waiting for what happens next.

“Hardly an evening.” The green female says eventually. “More like an hour. This one isn't built to take punishment.”  
“Then what use is it?” Her sister demands, stepping forward aggressively, her knife in her hand. But the green one stops her.  
“Not so hasty, sister.” She cautions. “Remember who brought this one into our midst.” She glances at the God-King. “One who has such a reputation for mischief and lies, would not bring us a physical fighter, but something far more subtle.”  
The God-King gives her a half-smile.  
“Show us.” She says. “Show us what this little one can do.” 

“On your feet, child.” The God-King says and you wince as you stand. The cuts are already scabbing over, but they break and bleed again at the movement. The God-King looks at you, his manner condescending and amused. His idea of what it means to be parental. “I think a little magical demonstration is in order, don't you?”  
You nod. Bastard, he was going to let them cut you up. Now he's all pretend dad and patient teacher.  
“What would you like?” You ask him.  
“A little high magic, I think.” The God-King says thoughtfully. “Show them the rune of containment.”  
You nod again.  
“I'm going to need a little space.” You say and the two females back off respectfully. The green one looking curious, the blue one looking like she's ready to see you fail. She hates you, but for reasons that are not your fault. She's physically dangerous, reactionary and strangely vulnerable in her hardness. You feel Black Widow's appraisal lessons kicking in automatically as you pace out the space, turning the magical presentation into a show to give you time to think. She's hurting and hurting badly, like the God-King after torture. She wants to hurt in return. And you'll be the youngest here, fresh, easy meat. She'll do her best to make your life hell.

But the green one, she's truly dangerous. Calm and cool and confident. You cross her and you won't know until she takes revenge and you won't see that revenge coming. She looks at you and doesn't see a child, but the God-King's mind at work. She asks why he's chosen a skinny little kid, instead of someone tall and strong, like Patrick. She wonders what your potential actually is. She's an appraiser as well, a manipulator. She'll be you best friend, your trusted ally, until she's ordered to stab you in the throat and then she won't think twice.  
You're truly screwed out here. You need to find a way to make a case to be sent home. Out here you're dead and it'll only take a few days.

“Okay.” You nod to yourself. “Okay. I'm ready”  
You walk to the centre of the space, you close your eyes and you centre yourself for the task ahead.  
The rune appears in your mind's eye, large and surrounding you. Perfect in its layers and twists into other dimensions. You love doing this work, you wish you could get the chance more often. You make the first step and the pain in your legs vanishes, the dance consuming everything in its wake.  
You reach out and start to weave the magic into your reality. 

…

…

You blink, the task done. Your mind returning from a blank and perfect euphoria. In your hands, shimmering and moving, a shining white perfection, the rune of containment.  
“That was...” The green female whispers out. “That was beautiful...”  
You stroke the rune, moving it in your hands.  
Then you turn, full of malice and you direct it, with as much force as you can, into the blue one's heart.  
The rune takes her hard in the chest, knocking her over and with a few quick gestures, it's fully around her body the white lines constricting and holding her sprawled and unable to move. You tighten it around her wrist and the knife falls from her hand, clinking onto the rock.  
“Child!” The God-King's voice cuts through the air.  
“She hit me! She was going to cut me up. Spend all evening over it!” You shout back, the full impact of what you've just done hitting home.  
_Stupid, stupid, stupid_  
“You will let her go, this instant!” The God-King commands and you look away, nodding. You gesture and the rune dissipates. The blue female is instantly on her feet and launching towards you. Her hands spread, ready to tear you apart.  
“Nebula.” The voice is deep and full of effortless threat. She instantly freezes. “You will allow your sibling to play.” She backs off, her head lowered, her jaw set in anger.  
“Yes, Father.” She says, glowering at you.  
The green female is watching you with a cautious respect. Good. Maybe that show of strength was a good thing, they'll think twice before screwing with you so openly again. 

The throne begins to turn, and you stand respectfully in place. 

The Void God is massive. Taller that you even when sitting down. He throne is rock hewn from the asteroid field, small jets moving and flashing blue to keep it afloat. His armour is a burnished gold, his skin purple and as craggy and old as the rockface itself. His glowing blue eyes filled with a curious malice as he eyes you up and down. He feels ancient and powerful, even from here, you can feel the magic he wields, the power he has over this entire place and all it's inhabitants. You want to shake, to turn and run, but instead you stand before this terrifying monster and you lower your head respectfully. 

He doesn't say anything, but moves towards you. His mind is so vast, it pushes out everything else. A great, powerful shadow, blotting out the stars. You know no one else can see this, that it's just your mind interpreting his immense mental strength. A small whimper escapes your lips as he reaches out for you.  
Still, you stand your ground. You have no choice.

The second his mind touches you, your whole body freezes up. Reacting with the most primal terror at his contact with your thoughts. For a few moments he toys with you, trying to reach into your mind, to prise it open, to see you inside your shell, vulnerable and helpless. But he can't. He's too powerful and you're far too small. The level of fine dexterity required is beyond him and if he just used brute force he would crush you completely, wipe you out of existence. You feel his frustration.  
“Come out, little one.” He tells you, directly in your mind and you quail, shaking you head.  
“You'd kill me.” You tell him silently, through the link. “If I do as you ask, you would snuff me like a candle in a gale. I'm sorry, I wish I could, but...”  
You can feel him thinking it over.  
_Don't be angry, please, oh, please, don't be angry._  
“Then we shall use an intermediary.” He says finally.  
“As my God wishes.” You agree as humbly as you can.

The Other grins and glides forward towards you. Instinctively you try to back away, but you can't, the Void God is holding you captive with his immense mental strength. You shiver and whimper, preparing yourself for what is about to happen. The God tightens his hold, pinning you completely in place as the Other moves in front of you, looming above you, looking down at you with those sightless gold pieces where his eyes should be. His grin is awful, all sharp teeth and terrible promises. A predator savouring the moment before the kill. He smells of the grave, of long dead flesh and oxidising metal. He lifts his hands, placing one on each side of your head, his fingers sliding beneath your ears and below your jawline, resting on your pulse. His duel thumbs move across your temples and his palms close around your cheeks like a he wants to smother you but is being denied this desire. He's so cold, his skin clammy and soft. There's no warmth in him at all and his mind, when it touches yours, is colder still.

His mind pushes into yours like thick tentacles, forcing you to yield, inch by slow excruciating inch. He catches you and separates you out, pushing and compartmentalising, slow taking control of everything you are. He pushes your consciousness out to one side, trapping you there with his deathless folds, the suckers wrapping around you and keeping you still, holding each limb individually and lifting you helpless and detached from your thoughts and memories. Then he starts to sift, searching though your little life methodically.

And behind his cold, dark, dank mind, you can hear the Chitauri hive, screeching and chittering in its crazed alien language. As he focusses on you, another part of him is working away, giving orders, hearing reports, sending troops to their deaths while the hive ships make their replacements. All individual, yet all one great insectile being, their thoughts the harsh screech of the modem, the call of the cicada, the noise of fingernails on metal. It's distant from you, a backing noise to the cold silence of the Other's independent mind. If it was to touch you, envelop you, you would be lost within moments, maddened and confused, driven insane from the sharp, razored noise which would tear you apart. A thought process that would kill a human within moments. 

You feel something else, a deeper resonance that shivers through your wires. The Void God speaking to the Other. You close your eyes, focus on the vibrations, listening...  
“Any sign of the Asgardian's treachery?”  
“A few hints, here and there.” The Other replies, his vibrations softer but easier to find, since he is so much closer to hand. “But nothing that we could use to condemn him. Nothing beyond his usual petty games.”  
“Pity. He's up to something. I can feel it in my bones.”  
“But we need him still. He is still a valuable ally.”  
“Unfortunately.” The Void God growls out. “How soon until we can dispose of him?”  
“Though these child's thoughts? The Earth will be ours by the end of the year. The tithe runs apace, he is not scrimping there.”  
“I know and it is good.” The Void God laughs. “So many perfect deaths.”  
“It would be far simpler to burn this world.” The Other tells him.  
“And where would the Chitauri get their war training? Better to start with somewhere simple, where the meat is tender and fresh for the taking. Where your people can replicate without hindrance.” The Void God says. “A world connected to the Bifrost, a staging post of some importance. One of the Nine Realms. A Realm the foolish pride of Asgard would rather keep as a playground for their prideful youth, rather than prepare it for what is to come.”  
“The Princelings wish to pretend to be gods.” The Other agrees. “And so this Earth, this Midgard is kept young and weak for their pride. Until one day they cannot defend it.” The bile of his mind relishes the fact that the Bifrost is gone, that the Earth will be taken before it can be rebuilt. 

“We still need the asset from Asgard, when will we send him to take it?” The Other asks.  
“Do we need to? Now that we have this little one? You have their mind, now taste their heart, there is more than mortal flesh growing within.”  
They both pause and the Other digs deep, deep, deep into you and you scream from the agony of it.  
“Now I see it.” The Other agrees. “He has had to change much to make a mortal sorcerer.”  
“No. This one has the Talent, it has just been added to, layered to speed up the mortal processes.” Again the Void God reaches into your heart, lifting and parting the very essence of you like skinning a rabbit and you howl and howl. “See here? It dances with the runes using its normal mortal instincts, but it sees the runes clearly because of this part of the Asgardian, placed beside the young one's natural abilities. It is cunning work, artfully applied. I could do no better with all the cybernetics at my disposal.”  
“Organic blending, I thought the Asgardian banned this a millennia ago...”  
“Oh, they did, but that would not stop one such as he. Petty and scheming for the throne, he will use any avenue, even that of a helpless mortal child.”  
“Will you adopt it?” The Other asks and there is a long pause.  
“We shall see.” The Void God says finally. “Once the end product is on display.”  
He replaces the pieces he has skinned, laying them gently back in place so that you might heal from his touch. The pain is unspeakable, like nothing you've every felt before and a small whispering part of you wishes he'd just finish you now, before the time comes when he might actually punish you.  
“Now rape it's mind and leave no stone unturned. I wish to know everything this child has to offer us.”  
The Other laughs blackly and with a deliberate slowness, he begins to violate you memories with the cold, dead tendrils while the Void God pins you in place.

And there is nothing you can do to stop it.

*

It's later, so much later. You're exhausted and weak, your limbs trembling with the effort to hold you up. The Other is retreating from your thoughts and the Void God's hold is finally, mercifully beginning to ease around you. As you return to the cool blackness of asteroid field, you slump silently to the floor. The spasms start almost immediately and you roll onto your back. Your body jerks and your spine arches as you try your best to just ride it out. 

Cool fingers take hold of your body. Strong hands move you onto your side, into the recovery position so you don't choke as you flail. A soft, smooth palm cups your head so you don't smack it off the rocks. The God-King's voice murmurs to you gently as the fits surge through you, reassuring you as you do your best not to panic. The spasms have never taken you this hard, nor lasted this long before. But then your mind has never been raped for this long, or so deeply. So deliberately violated. You whimper and try to clutch at him, but your hands are claws and you can't control them.  
“Just let it happen, Child.” The God-King tells you. “Don't fight it, it will pass soon enough.”  
And then it's done and you sigh to the ground, completely spent. 

“Bring it to the throne.” The Other commands and you feel the God-King bristle.  
“It is only mortal and you've already pushed it way beyond its normal limits.” He says, his voice harsh. “Do you want it to die?”  
“Do not test me, little Prince.” The Void God rumbles out. “We are not done yet.”  
“No.” You gasp out. “No, no please...”  
“Child...” The God-King sighs, leaving the rest unsaid. There is no choice.  
He lifts you, carrying you to the throne, past the two females ,who step backwards out of the way. He lowers you in front of the throne again, Making you kneel as the Other instructs. He kneels behind you so he can hold you upright by your arms, not allowing you to rest on him, but keeping you in position. You're too weak to lift your head and it lolls forward. You close your eyes, waiting for what next is to come. You're so tired even your eyelids hurt. 

“Tell us of the Tesseract.” The Other hisses out and you blink, your mind a sluggish mush.  
“What?” You say, uncertain.  
“The Tesseract, tell us of Its hold over you, tell us now!”  
“It, wait, didn't you? Didn't you read this from my mind?”  
“Do not tell us what we did or did not do.” The Other snarls. “You will answer!”  
“The Tesseract, the Tesseract.” You shiver tiredly. “We, we... We made a deal.”  
“How is that possible?”  
“It got in my wires and we...”  
“Your wires?”  
“Yeah, from my palm...”  
“Show me.”  
The God-King raises your wrist, offering the circle to the view of the throne.  
“Our bargain.” He says dryly. “To make the child more useful to me.”  
“You can hold the whole of the Tesseract in your wires?” The Other asks in disbelief.  
“No, heck no. Just, just a sliver. The whole thing would burn me out in.. In...” You sigh. “So goddamn fast...” You shiver again. “I don't, I don't have the words...” 

“What was this bargain?”  
“To, to return the sliver to the whole. The sliver, it was... It was in Sokovia...” You groan, you just want to rest. “HYDRA had it.”  
“They were going to make war with it against us. They could already place it in bullets and other technology.” The God-King supplies and you nod, a loose, limp movement.  
“Sure... that... what he said...”  
“And where is this sliver now?”  
“Asgard.” You say and you feel the pause, the surprise from both of them. “It's in Asgard...”

“So this is what the Tesseract covered in the child's mind.” The Void God rumbles. “That part you could not breech...”  
“How that Infinity Stone learned how to guard a mind, I will never know.” The Other snarls and you feel the God-King stiffen a little. He knows, he absolutely knows how and why, but he's not telling. You're grateful that you're alone in your mind right now. If the Other had been listening in, you would have given the God-King away. And then you'd never get home.  
“The... The Tesseract wants me to go to Asgard.” You supply without being asked. You desperately want this to be over. Again you feel the God-King stiffen, but this time in disapproval. But you don't care what happens, you just want to go home. You want to hear JARVIS and have Nathan hold you. You want Hawkeye to cook you dinner and the warm soft safety of Mr Stark's wonderful beds.  
You can't take it any more.

“To take back the sliver?” The Void God asks and you nod loosely again.  
“But I don't know how. It's just me and Hawkeye and Nathan. We're... We're... So out-matched...” You laugh, almost hysterical. “We're all going to die... “  
At least it will be quick.  
“Would the Tesseract allow you to bring help?” The God-King asks softly. “If you were to ask it politely?”  
“I don't...” You pause thinking. “Maybe? Yes, maybe...” You snort in amusement and feel the snot trickling down your lip. “I mean we argue all the time, but it listens to reason. When it has to.”  
“Would it let me come?” The God-King asks and you bark with laughter.  
“No.” You say, like he's a dork, a big, stupid dork. “There's no way, not after everything you've done...”

The God-King tightens his hold on your arms in warning and the sudden, physical pain makes your self-preservation kick in. You go quiet.  
“What has he done?” The Other asks and you giggle again, but play acting now. You don't want to survive this just for the God-King to kill you when you get home. You feel your mind sharpening suddenly. Fuck, you don't want to die. You've got to keep your wits.  
“It hates, it hates being used you know..?” You say, keeping the slur in your voice, keeping you head lolling. “It hates being used by you guys. By the God King, by all of you. When you use it, it's forced to burn some its energy. I mean, its power is almost limitless, almost. But entropy is everything right? It's the only thing the Tesseract fears... So it fucking hates all three of you.”  
The God-King relaxes his grip again and you give a little, internal sigh.  
Fuck, but that was close.  
But you're slipping again, you're too tired to remain focused for more than a few short seconds.  
You hope this is over soon.  
Please let it be over soon. 

“But if we were to send someone it doesn't know, someone strong enough to help you, but one that has not harmed it.” The God-King presses, his voice gentle in his needling. “Then could you talk it around?”  
“Sure.” You shrug as best you can, you're mind is going fuzzy again. “Sure, I guess...”  
“And how is it planning to get you to Asgard?” The Other asks.  
“Simple...” You say as the fuzziness returns and opens a sudden new realisation in your head. The sloppiness of your thoughts making a connection that had eluded you until this very moment. Your exhaustion making things suddenly, extremely clear. “It knows the sliver, recognises it and can feel the old resonance in my wires.” You smile, proud of yourself and more than willing to share. “Through me it can find it again, no matter how well Asgard shields it...” You pause, suddenly realising what you're saying and wanting to stop, but you can't stop the words are tumbling out. “...Using me, it can make a connection we can walk through. Like it did with the underground storage silo...”

Fuck.  
Fuck.  
Fuck.  
You've just told them how to get to Asgard.  
Before this the sliver was just a communications array, a two-way radio signal.  
But using you...  
With your mind-link and the Tesseract resonance in your body...  
They can use you like a key in a lock...  
And Asgard would never see it coming...  
Fuck.

The God-King knows it too. If he hadn't put two and two together before, he certainly has now and he's angry. You can tell by the way he's holding you. Fuck, is he going to kill you, dispose of you to protect his home? You reach out to his mind, suddenly desperate and he closes around you, hiding your attempt to connect with him from the view of your interrogators.  
“It can't be helped now.” He sends you on a tight quiet connection. “The harm is done.”  
“I'm sorry. Oh gods, I'm sorry.”  
“Hush now. Listen to them speak. We'll talk of this later.”  
And he shuts you out again.  
He's not going to kill you.  
You almost pass out with relief.  
He gives you a little shake and you realise the Other is speaking again.

“How many?” He snarling out. “How many can you take?”  
“Well...” You force yourself to continue slurring, even though your mind is razor sharp again. “That's entirely up to the Tesseract, not me. I can't...” You give another short bark of laughter. “It deals with me because it knows I can't do shit, y'know? That I can't do shit against it, that it could gobble me up before I could blink. If I was even slightly a threat to it, I'd be sooooo dead. Long dead.” You laugh again. “But I'm useful and I'm weak and it gets the final say.”  
The Other and the Void God exchange a look and you know that they're already trying to work out how to overcome that technical difficulty. How to use you against the Tesseract to get what they want. You let yourself go limp in the God-King's hands, struggling to stop your mind clouding over.  
“Are we done?” The God-King asks. “The Child is about to pass out. If you have anything to add, now might be your only chance.”  
“No.” The Void God says. “We are done.”  
“May I take the Child home?”  
“You may.” He sits back in his giant throne. “We have no use for it here.”  
“Thank you, my Master.” And the God-King lowers his head in gratitude.  
“You will talk to the Tesseract, you will get it to agree to allow us to send you an ally.” The Void God tells you. “You will not fail us.”  
“I won't.” You agree, not at all sure how you'll talk the Tesseract into doing it, but knowing better than to voice that doubt out-loud.  
“We will be in touch.” And the Void God turns away from you to look back out into the depths of space, the audience with him is over. 

The God-King takes you in his arms gently. He lifts you and start to carry you back to the staircase.  
“I need to take you back to where you came in.” He explains gently. “You need to stay awake.”  
“Can I? Can I doze a little?” You ask and he sighs, heavily. The exasperated parent.  
“I suppose.” He says, shaking his head. “But be ready when I tell you.”  
“Okay.” You rest against him. “Okay.”  
The two sisters stay where they are, you watch them as you leave, your chin resting on the God-King's shoulder. As soon as you start to descend the steps they turn away from you, towards the Other. The horrible creature starts to gesture as if speaking, but you can't hear the words. He's giving them new instructions.  
You close your eyes and allow yourself to doze. 

*

“Time to wake up.” The God-King shakes you gently and you grumble. You feel like you only had a few seconds. But as you look around you realise that you're back on the larger asteroid, very close to where you appeared. You must have fallen asleep the instant you closed your eyes.  
The God-King lifts you down and places you on your shaky feet.  
“I don't feel well...” You tell him and he sighs.  
“I'm not overly surprised.” He tells you, keeping you upright with a hand on your shoulder and you sway uncertainly.  
“How do I get home?” You ask and he points off to the left.  
“There.” He says. “Look over there and focus on where you want to go.”  
You shiver , tired and aching and not sure if you can concentrate on anything.  
The God-King gives you a little mental nudge.  
“Come on.” He says, his voice encouraging. “One last thing before you can rest.”  
“How did you stand it?” You ask him. “How did you stand them?”  
“I didn't.” He shrugs. “But I held out longer than most. You held out very well, all things considered.”  
“They raped me. They raped my mind...”  
“And I had already prepared you for it.” The God-King's voice has an edge now. “You're babbling. Stop it. We'll talk about this later.”  
You look up at him, at his stern expression and you nod.  
“Sorry. For the stuff I said back there...”  
The God-King cuffs you.  
“Focus!”  
You blink and look off to the left.  
“Now envision where you were before you arrived here.”  
“I'll have been moved...”  
“It doesn't matter, you'll be able to track your body from that first way point.”  
And he's right. You've done this enough times now that, by focusing on your bedroom in Stark Tower, it doesn't take long for you to track down your body in a small medical bay. Nathan's sat by your bedside, holding your hand. Clint is elsewhere. Possibly just outside the door. Guarding your physical form while they wait for your mind to return. 

“Protect Nathan.” The God-King says. “Please.”  
“I will.” You turn and smile at him. “I promise.”  
“Promises, promises.” The God-King sighs and you give a little tired giggle.  
“See you soon.” You say. “When all this is over.”  
“I'll save you some ice cream.” He says and you wince.  
“Couldn't it be pie instead? Pie with warm custard?” You ask and he shakes his head.  
“We'll sort it out when the time comes.” He says.  
“Okay.”  
“Now step out and go home. Before I get impatient.” And his voice is sharp. “I know you've been through a lot, so I'm giving you a little leeway...”  
“But you have better things to do than this.”  
“Precisely.”  
“Goodbye, Master. Majesty.” You turn reaching out towards your body and to Nathan. “I'll let you know what Asgard is like this time of year.”  
You feel his surprise and shock at your impertinence, but it's too late now and you slip away from him. Out of his grasp, out of the Void God's grasp and far, far, away form the Other.  
You reach out and you find your way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I had to spin a lot from a small ball of yarn here.
> 
> **Fact:** Sanctuary isn't mentioned in any detail in any of the Marvel films, nor really in the Art Books.  
>  I don't read any of the comics, so I had to take liberties as to why it was such a terrifying place.  
>  **Fact:** Why does Thanos just sit on that damned throne? Why is everyone scared of a purple dude who just sits on a throne?  
>  I hope I answered that adequately. It took a lot of work to sort it out.  
>  **Fact:** The Other is dead in the Marvel Universe, but not dead in my fan fic, as Guardians is in the future from my time line. He just seems like a shouty idiot, save for that bit in the Avengers where he monsters Loki, so that is the bit I took from heavily in this chapter. I hope I gave him the villain role he deserved. 
> 
> This chapter was just one massive world build and character build after the other.  
> I still can't believe I wrote 11k words in just under two weeks, with so many feels. Pretty proud of that fact.  
> Nor could I break it down any smaller, so apologies for that, if you're used to my smaller updates. 
> 
> I'll reply to comments in the next few days. I'm updating just before I go to bed, so I don't have time right now.  
> Talk to you soon :)


	54. Parental Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So.” The God-King slaps his leg to break the moment. “I would like to speak with my mother, if you don't mind.”  
> “What?”  
> “Child.” He gives you a condescending look. “Do you really think you can allow my parents to play with my design and not have me notice?”  
> You look at him blankly.  
> The God-King sighs.  
> “You really were thorough...” He says thoughtfully. “You have to show me how you did it, when you remember.”  
> He leans forward.  
> “Give me your hand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you'll have had a few update notifications.  
> This is because I've been getting a few chapter edits done and I figured I'd put them in just before a real chapter update, so I didn't get your hopes up and then make you feel cheated or let down.
> 
> The first one was for chapter 39, where I'd finally tracked down the one erroneous gendering of the Kid. It was an emotional chapter to write, with Thor shouting and Tony dying and lots of male characters acting at once, so I got a lot of the gendering mixed up in the first draft while I struggled to keep all the action clear, even for Black Widow. I thought I'd caught them all and sorted it. I had missed one.  
> It is no longer a problem.
> 
> I also reread chapter 53 and realised that again, because of all the emotional impact and the new set of characters being introduced and a whole new environment, that it needed to be edited. I may not have caught everything, there were a lot of mistakes, but I've cleaned it up as best as I can for now and I'll return to it again at some point, to double check it all again.   
> I also changed the chapter title, because the original one was just too cumbersome. I prefer the new one much better, as I like to give them a pop-culture reference or a play on words, if I can. Just one of the little games that keeps me going. Sometimes I can't, but when I can, it makes me happy.  
> #Don'tjudgeme
> 
> This fic is now a lot of chapters and a lot of words, so going back and editing, while trying to get new chapters out, is a long task right now. I've started printing them out individually to try and help spot any corrections, but it's going to take some time. So I just sorted the stuff that needed the most attention this time around. 
> 
> I've been looking forward to this chapter for a while now, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
> *No spoilers.*

*

You sit fully upright the second you enter your body, huffing and gasping for air. You're so heavy, you find it a struggle to work your lungs. You think you're drowning for a moment before your brain remembers how it all works and you settle again, breathing so deeply you start to cough.  
“Kid?” Nathan leans forward and you take his hand. Oh, thank God, you're back.”  
You squeeze his hand, smile reassuringly and are about to say that you're fine, that you're okay, when the spasms start again.

You slam backwards into the pillow, your back arching as you give a small, helpless cry. You try and fail to regain control as you kick the blankets away and Nathan stands over you, holding you down so you don't fall off the bed.  
“JARVIS!” He screams “Clint! Oh fuck, oh fuck... Anybody!”  
Clint is there in seconds, ordering Nathan to put you in the recovery position as one of Mr Stark's suits comes in behind him. It goes to the medical cabinet, finds a syringe and starts to prepare it. Your eyes are wide as you look from Nathan to Clint. You want to tell them you're back, you want to let them know it's over, that this will ride itself out. But you can't make more than a few pathetic whimpers as your jaw clamps itself shut and your body refuses to co-operate. You feel so weak, so exhausted. Your mind filled with frustration and fatigue. The suit walks over, Clint pulls back your sleeve and JARVIS injects you with something right into the vein.

It must be some sort of sedative as you begin to feel sleepy within moments, your spasms easing as you slump back into the bed. Your limbs too heavy to move.  
“Take it easy, Kid.” Clint says, looking into your eyes as you blink tiredly. He lifts an eyelid, checks you out and nods to himself. “The kid is back, right JARVIS?”  
“I can confirm so, sir. The child's normal brain activity has returned, though they are in total exhaustion, both physically and mentally.” The suit says.  
“Get some rest, Kid. Let the drugs send you to sleep.” Clint clasps your shoulder. “Your fight's over for now.”  
Nathan's still holding your hand and you find a little energy from somewhere to squeeze it once, to show that you've heard. Nathan gives you a worried little smile.  
You let yourself drift away.

*

“We can't keep doing this.” Nathan's voice is raised and angry. “It's not fair to keep them drugged.”  
“What else can we do?” Clint asks. “They're in tough shape and they need time to recuperate.”  
“Then let them sleep, naturally, I mean. Keeping them under... It makes me feel bad. Like I'm as bad as everyone else that's meddled with Ace's well-being...”  
“It's only a sedative, Nathan. It isn't like we're using experimental drugs or anything. This isn't HYDRA, or Loki, or whoever else has been doing bad shit to them.”  
“I just don't like it. I just...” Nathan's voice trails off as he thinks. “I mean, isn't this a waste of valuable medication or something?”  
“I have enough of this sedative to keep a full adult male under for the best part of a year.” JARVIS' voice cuts in.  
“Huh...” Nathan sighs. “But still... I mean, I mean.” He sounds frustrated. “I mean, they're fighting things we can't even see, right? That we can't even feel. What if one of them comes while Ace is still under? What do we do then?”  
“Well, what can they do if the kid's asleep?”  
“I can't even believe you said that, Clint.” Nathan snaps.  
“Yeah. Right. That was a stupid thing to say.” You hear footsteps on the carpet and you feel Clint's hand on your forehead. “But what happens if we can't do anything, even if they are awake?”  
“Then at least they'd have a fighting chance to call for help or tell us what to do.”  
“JARVIS, what do you think?”  
“Well, since the Child is awake. Perhaps you can ask them.”

Shit. Busted.

You open your eyes warily.  
“Hey.” You say and instantly start coughing, your throat is so dry.  
“Hey.” Clint props you up while Nathan goes to get some water. “You hear all that?”  
You give him a sardonic look.  
“Right.” He sighs. “I don't want you to think that I don't care for you. I do, but...”  
You try to speak, but just end up coughing again. Clint squeezes your shoulder.  
“Right, we'll wait for the water.”  
You nod and smile. 

Nathan comes back with a full pint glass in each hand. He gives you one and puts the other within easy reach.  
“Hey, Ace. You're looking better.” He say encouragingly and you snort, almost bringing water up your nose. You wipe your top lip.  
“Liar.” You whisper out and Clint laughs.  
“Well, better than when you came back.” Nathan qualifies. “JARVIS says you're in the clear, fitness-wise.”  
You shrug.  
“It would have worked itself out. It always does.” Your voice is raspy.  
“This happen often?” Clint asks and you shrug again.  
“After intense mind stuff, yeah.” You don't want to go into the after-effects of mind-rape, not so soon after waking.  
“I will find you some throat lozenges.” JARVIS tells you and you look up at the ceiling as the suit walks out of the room.  
“Thank you.” It always pays to be polite when armoured combat suits go to get you things.  
“As always, you are welcome.”  
“And I'll go and warm you up some soup.” Clint slaps his thighs as he gets up. “We haven't got chicken, but I did find some stock cubes at the back of one of the kitchen cabinets. With some of the tinned veggies, you won't be able to tell the difference.”  
“No beetroot.” You tell him and he nods.  
“Fine, just this once.” He heads for the door. “But don't think you've tasted the last of it.”

“I wish I'd never found those cans.” You say, once he's out of earshot.  
“It's okay. I like beetroot. You can slip it to me when he's not looking.” Nathan winks at you.  
“So what's happened while I've been out?” You ask, sipping at the water. Your throat's so dry it actually hurts to rehydrate the parched tissues.  
“Well, it's been two days. You were well at the point of dangerous exhaustion when you came back. We were all glad that you made it when you did.”  
“The God-King saved me, after I saved him.” You say and Nathan looks at you strangely. “His master tortured him to get me to go. It was smart, I don't think I would have done it otherwise.”  
“Is he feral?” Nathan asks just as you take another mouthful of water. So you shake you head instead of answering verbally.  
Nathan lets out a relieved breath.  
“That's good.” He says. “That's good. I don't know what the Empire State would do without me or you there to take him out of it.”  
You nod your head and swallow the water carefully.

“He was tired, but he was still talking when I left. He showed me the way back. I'm guessing he got home after. I hope he did. I hope he wasn't made feral after I came back here...” You look up at Nathan. “Next time, don't drug me, okay? I understand you were worried and all, but you were right, if I can't see what's happening I can't keep you guys abreast of the situation.”  
“Those are long words.” Nathan says and you smile.  
“I've been the guest of both HYDRA and SHIELD.” You tell him. “Some things you just pick up.”  
“Yeah.” Nathan shakes his head, like he always does when you name drop important organisations or tell him about what you've done in the last few months. “Something to tell the grandkids.”  
You both look at each other and break into giggles.  
“You're such a dork.” You tell him.  
“I try, Ace. I try.” 

The Tesseract suddenly makes itself known in your head.  
It needs to talk with you.  
You wince and put the water on the bedside table. You lift one hand to your temple, rubbing it slowly to try and ease the pressure, and raise the other to let Nathan know that you're suddenly busy. He nods without saying a word and sits back, waiting.  
It hurts to be mentally aware of your surroundings. Your brain is still aching after what The Other did to you. Like your grey matter is all one big bruise. But you connect with the Tesseract anyway. It's trying to warn you, so it's worth the pain. 

And that's when you feel him.  
The Tesseract growls as the God-King's mind reaches out towards you. You can't feel beyond the barrier of the Tesseract, but it lets you share its alien, tactile sensation of the situation. It watches the God-King approach with a growing fury. It doesn't want him back in Stark Tower, but it cannot match his mind, not with the strange yellow energy backing him up. It wants to fight, but also doesn't want to waste energy in an engagement it knows it can't win.  
“Let him in.” You tell it. “It's only his mind after all, not his physical form.”  
But he is trespassing!  
“He just needs to know I'm okay. After everything that's happened, he just wants to touch base. I mean you own the Tower right? You could kick him out or contain him any time.”  
Not with the yellow glow with him.  
The Tesseract isn't scared of whatever the yellow thing is, but respectful. Wary. You get the feeling they might have a history.  
“You know what it is?” You ask it and the Tesseract grumbles.  
It doesn't want to talk about it.  
“Well, that's fine, we all have things we don't want to share.” You agree. “But if you can't stop it right now, then conserve your energy. Keep your strength for the fights you can win.”  
Reluctantly, still grumbling, the Tesseract lets the God-King through.

“Heads up.” You say to Nathan in warning. “The God-King is coming.”  
“Now?”  
“Now.”  
“Shit, that was quick. He must have you on speed-dial or something. We haven't had a peep from him all the time you were out, but the second you wake up...”  
You lift your palm.  
“Part of the package.”  
“Huh.” Nathan sound unimpressed. “Still don't envy you.”

As soon as the God-King's image starts to shimmer at the foot of the bed, Nathan perks up. A hopeful smile on his face. It fades the instant he sees the God-King's expression. Cold, impassive, with a hint of silent anger. His eyes flicker from you lying in bed to lock with Nathan's gaze.  
“Leave.” He says, imperiously. “Now.”  
“Hey.” Nathan gets up, walking towards him. “I don't, I don't hear from you for days and then this is the welcome I get?”  
The God-King tilts his head. He takes a single threatening step towards his lover and Nathan stumbles away, moving backwards until he comes up hard against the wall.  
“Leave.”  
Nathan swallows.  
“No.” He almost coughs the word out, his hands flat against the plaster, as if taking strength from the building itself.  
The God-King turns on his heel to fully face Nathan, he walks forward, his steps measured and predatory. Nathan watches him, frozen in place, but defiant. The hologram strokes his cheek and Nathan briefly shuts his eyes.

“You're picking your moments, right now. You really are.” The God-King says, his voice so soft that Nathan gives a small, involuntary whimper. “I swallowed your shit last time because you had a valid point. Don't push me. I am in no mood.”  
“I am not going to leave you alone in the room with Ace. No way. Not like this.” Nathan says, but his eyes flicker downwards, he can't meet the God-King's gaze.  
“Does this illusion make you feel brave?” The God-King asks him. “Make you think you can cross me without any repercussions?”  
“No.” Nathan's voice is small.  
“No.” The God-King agrees.  
“But I won't...”  
“It's okay.” You cut in, before this gets any worse. “It's okay Nathan. Just go, I'll be fine.”  
The God-King glances at you, looks back at Nathan.  
“Taking orders from children now, are we?” He says, his voice dripping with condescension.  
Nathan swallows, his eyes on the ground, his jaw working. 

“Get. Out.”  
“No.”  
“Nathan...”  
“No!” Nathan screams at him.  
“Nathan!” The God-King's snarls in rage and Nathan reacts like he's been slapped. He cowers away from the illusion.  
“Nathan.” The God-King repeats, his voice back to normal. Reasonable. He strokes the man again as Nathan shivers in fear.  
“You don't want to do this.” The God-King continues. “You know you don't. I know you love this child, but this isn't a fight worth having right now. This is not the time or the place.”  
Nathan's shaking now, his eyes glazed in animal terror, he's breathing heavily.  
“Do you really want to do this? Survive all this? And then walk to my throne afterwards, walk to me in person, knowing that you've crossed me?”  
Nathan sobs.  
“Leave now and I will pretend this never happened. Leave now and I will forgive you.”  
Nathan looks at him, searching his face.  
“You have my word.” The God-King says with quiet sincerity.  
Nathan looks at you, he looks scared out of his mind.  
“I'm sorry.” He says, his voice blank and helpless.  
He ducks under the God-King's arm and flees from the room. 

The God-King gestures the door shut behind him. It slams and the lock clicks shut.  
He gestures again and an orange glow moves across the wooden surface like some sort of force-field. Shot through the orange is a mess of thick, inter-connected, sickly-yellow lines. They pulse like blood vessels on a Petri dish giving the flat, orange colour a three-dimensional texture. It starts to travel up the walls and across the ceiling. You watch its progress from the corner of your eye, but all your attention is on the God-King.  
He turns to look at you and you almost wet yourself, there's so much calculation there. Fuck, this could go wrong so quickly. You try to sit up, kicking at the sheets in your hurry. You find your fear is impeding you, making you struggle unnecessarily with what should be a simple task. You're scared and you're tired and you're not ready for this, not ready at all. You reach out with your thoughts, hoping to find some reassurance, but his mind is closed to you.  
“I'm sorry, but I feel I must intervene...” JARVIS starts to say and is cut off with another gesture. His voice grows long and slow and distorted, then there's a small crackle, a smell of burnt wiring and a wisp of smoke curls from one of the grills just as the orange glow seals over it.  
“No interruptions.” The God-King says.

“I have what you want.” You tell him as he walks down the side of the bed, his illusionary fingers trailing down the sheets. “Everything... Everything they they talked about while they were in my mind. You can have it. All of it.”  
He doesn't say anything and you start to panic.  
“I'm sorry.” You say urgently. “I'm sorry about what I told them, about Asgard, about everything. I didn't mean it. I didn't even know what I was doing. I hardly knew where I was... Please, oh, please...”  
He pauses at the head of the bed, standing over you. Looking down at you without emotion. You cower back into the mattress, desperately trying to think of any way to appease him.  
You've fucked up. You've fucked up so badly...

The God-King turns and uses magic to pull Nathan's chair up behind him.  
He sits down regally and crosses his legs, leaning forward.  
He starts to smile.  
“Child. Really. Hush now.” He says and you look at him with incomprehension.  
“I'm not here to hurt you.”  
“Then why...?”  
“Don't you just get sick of all their shit?” He says, sighing. “The mortals, trying to tell you what to do. Clamouring for your attention. Making life just so very tiresome...”  
You look at him, you don't know what to say.  
“I'm mortal...?” You say, your voice uncertain.  
The God-King gives you a look.  
“But you said, when we were at the audience. You told everyone that I was mortal.”  
“And everyone knew I was lying to protect you, but let it slide because you were so very near the end of your strength. They show no mercy for children in Sanctuary, but sometimes, when it suits them, they will show consideration for racial weakness. It was just a convenient lie, nothing more.”  
You fall silent and look away, picking at your blanket. 

“I'm proud of you, you know.” He continues, lifting his hand and looking at his nails. “Proud of how strong you are. Two days after being mind-raped by one of the most powerful creatures in the galaxy and you're talking and pleading... Still coherent. Still sane...”  
“Well I've had practice.” You say, a little sarcastically and he smiles, lowering his hand to his knee.  
“Exactly. I hoped I'd done enough, taught you enough of the nature of the mind to give you an edge. But I had no idea how it would work out in the field...”  
You continue playing with the blanket, not sure what to say.  
“How did you do it? How did you hide all your memories from them? I truly thought we were dead, that they would uncover my treachery in your mind and destroy us both, there and then. How did you use the Tesseract to shield yourself?”  
“Well...” You bite your lip. “Uhm, well... It makes sense, right, that whatever I did, I put that behind the barrier as well, to stop them finding out... Right? So, I, I don't know...”  
“That is a very valid point.” The God-King agrees.  
“Are you going to go in? Try to unlock it all?”  
“No. Your mind is still healing. I'm sure you put in a fail-safe so you will remember in time. I hope you did...”  
You look at him in worry.  
“Well, if that is not the case then, when you are stronger, we will uncover it all again together.”  
“Together?”  
“Yes. It would be a good intermediary lesson. You're coming along quickly with the basics.”  
“Okay.” You nod. “Okay.” 

“So.” The God-King slaps his leg to break the moment. “I would like to speak with my mother, if you don't mind.”  
“What?”  
“Child.” He gives you a condescending look. “Do you really think you can allow my parents to play with my design and not have me notice?”  
You look at him blankly.  
The God-King sighs.  
“You really were thorough...” He says thoughtfully. “You have to show me how you did it, when you remember.”  
He leans forward.  
“Give me your hand.”  
You quietly reach out and place your hand, palm-up in his holographic grasp. His illusion shivers and tingles on your skin as he closes his fingers around it. With his other hand he isolates a single ring of the black design around your wrist, touching it delicately with the tips of his index and middle fingers. You gasp as it turns red and starts to burn.  
“Sloppy.” The God-King says. “It's like she wanted me to find it.”

You watch, fascinated, as he draws the line out, down your forearm. It isn't a line at all, but a complex Celtic design with runes placed in the gaps of the woven patterns. It covers all of your skin, like a tattoo sleeve, right down to the elbow. So many thin lines and workings, compressed onto your wrist made it seem like a single, thick, dark line, but now it's been activated and opened-up you realise it's actually a very advanced spell. You can feel the power in it, the way the runes are perfectly aligned to hold it in place like a spider anchoring a web. Anchoring you as well, picking you out from the herd like a neon rave wristband in a pitch-black, crowded room. 

The God-King starts touching the runes, adjusting them so they slide across your skin like liquid ink, you can feel what he's doing, taking a puzzle within the lines and connecting it together. Working out which bits to move so the spell remains anchored, while at the same time opening it up so that it shows its entire potential. The top part of the spell is complete, but the bottom part requires extra construction. It resonates differently as well, as if drawn by a different hand. The lines react to the God-King's changes by unwinding further, showing even thinner lines and tiny, dense groupings of runic script. 

“She's lucky that Howard's Child doesn't understand Asgardian High Magic.” The God-King mutters. “Or we'd both still be in Sanctuary, being interrogated over this.”  
“Howard's Child?” You ask and he looks at you, surprised.  
“It doesn't matter.” He mutters, but sounds a little disappointed. He turns his attention back to unwinding the spell.  
“More stuff I locked away?”  
“Yes. I can't even have a conversation with you right now.”  
“Sorry.”  
“Don't be sorry. It saved our lives.” The God-King doesn't look at you while he's talking, but he does reach out to give you a little mind-touch of reassurance.  
It hurts like lemon juice in an open wound and you take a sharp intake of breath.  
His eyes flickers to yours, he withdraws the mind-touch with a grimace of apology, before returning to his work.  
“Force of habit.” He mutters. 

It takes about five minutes for him to fully unspool the spell. When he finishes the red fades to black again and it goes back to looking like an intricate, full-forearm sleeve tattoo.  
“So, was I supposed to do this? Open it up like this?” You ask, moving your arm this way and that to look at it.  
“Hardly. You were just supposed to touch it and speak her name. Ask her to come and talk with you. You weren't supposed to know the in and outs of the spell.”  
“Oh.”  
“Don't be offended. You're a beginner. She made it simple for you because of your level of experience, not out of any discourtesy.” He traces a few of the lines. “This part, however, is for me.”  
“What is it?”  
The God-King smiles. One of his real smiles, a wistful look in his eyes.  
“A letter. I don't think she even told Father about it. This part...” He gestures to the dense markings around the top of the sleeve. “That is the spell that keeps you obvious and easy to find, if need be, by either Heimdall or my father on his throne, Hlidskjalf, where he can see anything, anywhere in the Nine Realms, should he desire to do so.” The God-King gives a small, twisted, smug smile. “Almost anywhere. At the moment Midgard is difficult to see and I, myself, impossible. I know how to hide my presence from them, so this is a marker they can use to see through the mists I conjure for privacy. I'll be breaking that later. But here...” He caresses the part that runs along the soft part of your inner forearm. It tickles and you twitch away. “This is all her.”  
“What does it say?” You ask and he shakes his head.  
“That would be telling.”  
“So I'm basically just a piece of paper and postage stamp?”  
“Pretty much.” The God-King shrugs. “It's highly personal...”

There's a large, muffled thump from the doorway. The wood bows inward for a moment and the orange forcefield shimmers, but everything holds solid. A couple more thumps follow, travelling up the wall as if searching for a weak point. They sound explosive and you're guessing that the orange field is masking a lot of the noise. The God-King sighs.  
“Give me a moment.” His hologram disappears.  
There's the sound of raised voices, though the deadening ability of the field stops you being able to make out words. You recognise Hawkeye's voice though and the God-King's. JARVIS is more difficult to detect as he doesn't shout so loud, but you can just about make out his polite English voice, if you listen hard. Nathan isn't joining in. You wonder where he is. But then after the scare the God-King gave him...  
You would have made yourself scarce as well. 

You shift uncomfortably on the bed. You're still physically very weak, even if you have had two days worth of sleep. It's the mental fatigue translating into a physical tiredness you just can't shake. But you figure you could run, if you really had to. If it was life or death or something. But since it isn't – at least not the kind you can run from – you might as well stay put and get better.  
There's a metal, wheeled stand off to one side with one of those plastics bags hanging off it. It's empty and you turn your left arm until you find the mark where the needle for the drip had gone in. You wonder who had taken it out and not replaced it. Probably Nathan, he's the reason you're awake right now, after all. You look at your knees, remembering how you grazed them on the rocks. The skin pulls a bit as you bend your knees fully to look, but there are healthy two-day scabs with the yellowish tinge of iodine swabbed over both of them. You touch your throat and wince. Still tender where Nebula attacked you, probably still a lovely shade of purple. You look around ,but there aren't any mirrors to check it out. 

The voices get a little louder and you instinctively reach out to the God-King. It makes your head throb in warning, but you figure it's worth it. You want to find out what's happening, maybe try to stop him losing his temper, but you come up short against the orange barrier. You look at it, the way it shimmers and moves. The way the thick yellow threads pulse like something alive. Now that you look at it closely, the yellow looks more like nerve cells than blood vessels. You remember pictures at school of them up close under a microscope and from a few TV shows where they tried to portray flash-backs or telepathy by doing cuts scenes of electrical impulses going through the brain neurons in a mind. Your bed is right against the wall, but it hasn't travelled onto the mattress, though looking around you can see that it covers all of the grey linoleum floor. You lean across the bed and touch it gently with your fingers spread.

“Hello?” You send to it, experimentally. It hurts to do it, like you're working a sprained muscle and you wince.  
There's no answer, but you feel something...  
A flash of thought too quick to catch. A moment of recognition.  
Then the sensation abruptly disappears and you don't feel anything at all.  
Just like when the God-King cuts you off.  
Huh.  
You pull back into your head.  
Interesting.

You look around the room, feeling a little out of sorts. You want to get involved with what's going on outside, but you can't. Yet at the same time you don't feel trapped or anything. Just cut out of the loop. You feel a little antsy and with nothing better to do, you decide to gather your sheets and blanket and spend a few minutes untangling them and spreading them neatly over your body, while the shouting continues outside. You snag the water from the table and start to sip again, taking your time, enjoying the cool feeling of the liquid as it flows down your dry throat. You wait for things to calm down. 

The God-King re-appears looking irritated.  
“Well that should stop them trying that again.” He says, running his fingers through his hair distractedly.  
“You didn't hurt them?” You ask and he shakes his head.  
“No. They just needed my word for your safe passage.” He looks at you sardonically. “You really do inspire loyalty.”  
“Maybe you should just try not being a complete and utter bastard every now and again” You shrug. “It works for me.”  
The God-King snorts.  
“I don't think I could pull it off. Unfortunately my reputation leads towards that kind of expectation.”  
“Each to their own.” You agree.

The God-King sits down again.  
“Where we we? Oh, yes. I need you to activate the spell. It's designed to listen to you and you alone.”  
“What, she leaves you a message, but no way to get back to her?” You ask and the God-King looks at you in that vaguely disappointed, teacherly way of his when you've missed something obvious.  
“Oh.” You say as it suddenly dawns on you. “Oh. Right. Paper and stamp. I'm your return address.” You roll your eyes.  
“If she had left a clause for me to activate this, then Father would have picked up on it. She knew if I discovered the new line on your wrist, I would open it automatically, solve the puzzle and see the message.” He smiles fondly. “This was one of my favourite learning games as a child...” He shakes his head and sighs. “It is a passive thing, something Father wouldn't even think of looking for. But to make certain it was hidden, she had create it so only you can bridge the spell.”  
“So your dad would be mad if he knew you and your mum were talking behind his back.”  
“My father...” The God-King pauses as if the word suddenly has a bad taste. “Well, he has control issues...”  
“Like father, like son?” You ask flippantly and instantly regret it as the God-King's expression drops to one of anger.  
“Sorry.” You say hurriedly. “Sorry.”  
The God-King looks away for a moment, visibly working to contain his emotions.  
“I'm sorry.” You repeat and he lifts a hand.  
“I know.” He says exhaling heavily. “I know.” He looks back at you, with a smile of reassurance . “I'm not angry at you.”  
You nod, still a little nervous.  
You put the empty glass back on the side and you touch his wrist, gently, so your fingers don't go through the field.  
“I'm sorry.” You say again, earnestly. “I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean to hurt you.”  
The God-King smiles, clasping his other hand over yours.  
“You're such a sweet thing.” He says. “No wonder they're trying to blast their way in here to save you.”  
Your eyes lock and a moment of peace passes between you.  
You wish you could organise more moments like this with him, find ways to reach him more often. To try and reach some sort of stable common ground.  
Then it passes and he lifts his hand away.  
With a deep reluctance you pull your own hand back and reach for the second glass of water.

“So what do I say?” You ask, between sips. “To activate the spell, I mean.”  
“Queen Frigga. I would speak with you. Please hear my call.”  
“That's it?”  
“That's it.” The God-King gives a small shrug. “Like I said before, she was keeping things simple for you.”  
“Okay.” You finish the water first, so that you can get the intonation right. It wouldn't do to cough halfway through the spell, simple though it is. The God-King seems to read your intention and makes no complaint while you finish drinking. You put the glass beside the first, then place the fingers of your left hand on the line on your wrist where the spell begins. “You ready?”  
“I'm ready.”  
You lick your lips and clear your throat.  
“Queen Frigga. I would speak with you. Please hear my call.”  
And the black lines turn a bright, leaf green in answer.

At first nothing happens and you're worried that maybe the Tesseract, or the strange orange field might be causing interference. And then you feel her. She isn't travelling from Asgard at all, but preparing a illusionary double, like the God-King uses, right here in the room. You feel her using the spell to create it, circumnavigating the distance and any outside obstacles. Using you as the antenna for the signal.  
“Beautiful isn't it.” The God-King agrees as he sees your expression. “So complex and yet such a simple, elegant execution.  
“You can feel it?” You ask him and he smiles.  
“She's my mother. My first teacher. I can feel her magic anywhere.”  
A golden gossamer energy rises from the spell on your forearm. It floats in the air, moving into the space at the foot of your bed. Then it spreads out, until it is the size and shape of a person, before solidifying into an individual image.

She smiles in welcome as she stands before you both. Regal and confident and kind. She's wearing a white evening dress, all pleated and off-the-shoulder. Her hair is a golden blonde, held in a single long plait down her back. She wears a simple emerald necklace at her throat and a gold rope belt around her waist. She takes a few steps to orientate herself to the space and you see that she is bare-foot.  
“Good-evening, Child.” She says, smiling so beautifully that you smile timidly back. Her very presence makes everything feel that little bit better. “So, this is Midgard.” Her laugh is high and soft and wonderful.  
“So you're the God-King's mother.” You says, happily. “I always wondered what you'd look like. “  
Your answer seems to confuse her.  
“Good evening, Mother.” The God-King says gently. “I hope we have not disturbed your nightly meditations.”  
“You have.” She says in a way that instantly forgives you both. “But I feel that it is worth it.” 

She walks to the God-King, her illusionary fingers brushing away a strand of illusionary hair from his face.  
“Loki.” Her voice is relieved, if slightly exasperated. “Why didn't you tell me you lived?”  
“It would have been rather tricky.” The God-King answers. His voice is sarcastic, but his expression is softer than you've ever seen it. Softer even when he looks at Nathan. “I'm afraid, since we last met, I have fallen in with a rather rough crowd.”  
“You're injured.” She lifts her hand and gestures and his hologram shimmers and changes. And you see him how he was at the pool, his skin burned and scarred by the boiling water. He looks away.  
“Stop it.” He says.  
“Loki...”  
“Stop it!” He stands, moving away from her. “I came here to talk with you, not to have you fuss.”

“But, I thought you healed yourself.” You say, bewildered and he gives you a scathing look.  
“Oh, yes.” He says. “Of course I could heal myself completely after almost being boiled alive...” He locks gazes with you and you look away hurriedly, staring at your blanket. “I cast an illusion, Child. A powerful one, to hide my weakness. To trick them into thinking I still had my full magical strength. So they would still respect me at the audience.” He looks away, starts to pace. “It's going to take weeks for me to gather the energy required for a full healing spell. Until then...” He turns back to Queen Frigga. “Mother, if you don't mind...?”  
“Boiled alive?” She asks, she sounds appalled.  
“Turn me back and let me explain.” The God-King says and she nods and gestures again. His hologram returns to its normal, smoothed-skinned appearance.  
“I'm sure this is going to be an interesting explanation.” She says, giving him a steely-eyed mothering look that you wouldn't dare cross.  
The God-King nods wearily and continues to pace.

“I didn't mean it, Mother. I didn't mean to make you worry. I didn't mean any of it. But after Thor turned on me, after he destroyed the Bifrost, after Odin awoke... All I wanted was time to myself. Time where I wasn't spied on.” He turns and looks at her. “You know how Father can be...”  
She nods.  
“I know.” She says softly. “But Thor did not turn on you. After what you did, Loki, what was he to think, what was I to think?”  
“When Odin ascended the Throne, the Frost Giants saw their chance to test the new king and half of Midgard died under the ice. Before him, our grandfather was challenged by the Dark-Elves, who wished to turn the universe back into eternal darkness. That one ended in genocide.” The God-King waves his hands as he speaks, his voice filled with passion. “And the stories go back, thousand of thousands of years. Every time a new king of Asgard is crowned, billions upon billions die. Worlds and civilisations are destroyed. I tried...” He voice falters. “I tried to stop that.”  
“By turning the Bifrost on Jotunheim?” She asks, her voice hard with disapproval.  
“There was a fail-safe! I studied the workings of the Bifrost, things I could not view about it's abilities until after I ascended the throne. I talked with the engineers who kept it working. With the mages who kept it calibrated. It would have destroyed Laufrey's castle, the people within, maybe at worst, the city beyond... and then it would have shut down. You think the engineers of Asgard are so lax to allow such a weapon of gross mass-destruction run rampant?” The God-King touches his chest. “You think I wanted to wipe out a whole species?” He spits. “The blood of Odin does not flow in my veins.” 

“Loki...” She steps forward, taking his shoulders. “Come home. Stop this. Come home to us.”  
He looks away.  
“I know you are hurting.” She continues. “I know Odin has done you wrong, that Thor must start thinking and stop reacting. But this can only be put right if you come home and talk with us.”  
“I cannot. This all goes too far. Too deep. Until this is over, I cannot come home.” For a moment he buckles, puts his head against her shoulder and she holds him to her.  
“I had hoped...” He voice was a whisper. “I had hoped Thor would have defeated me. Taken me home. Better to be in chains and in a cell, than...”  
He stops himself, he pulls away, shaking his head. He schools his expression and his pain. The mask of condescension reasserting itself.  
“But of course, I couldn't even depend on him for that.” He turns from Queen Frigga and starts his pacing again. 

“I need your help, Mother.” He says before she can cut in again. “I cannot leave Midgard and I cannot turn against those who would control me. They are in my mind and in my heart and if they think I deceive them, I will die.”  
“Loki...”  
“I cannot tell you who they are!” The God-King says, his voice shrill as he guesses her question. “They are in my head, Mother. In my very soul. They almost drove me insane. But here I am, here I stand. Still trying...” His voice breaks with emotion and he pauses, swallowing. “...Still trying to fight. But my resources are so very limited and I cannot reach out for help. If you had not primed this child, we would not be having this conversation at all.”  
“But what if we send help anyway?” She asks and the God-King shakes his head.  
“The second a fighting force from Asgard steps foot on this soil, Midgard will be turned to ashes. Its value is only that of a training ground, and as a strategic foothold in the Nine Realms. They only need the rock, not the people who live on it.”  
“Then why are we talking at all? How can I help you, Loki? I cannot stand and just watch you like this.”  
“There are two things you can do.” The God-King says and he turns and looks at you. 

He goes quiet as he walks back to the foot of the bed to look down at you. You lie there, keeping very still, not daring to move. He's volatile and, while you think he wouldn't harm you in front of his mother, you don't want to put it to the test. You look at him, timid and submissive.  
“I wish I could have let you and my mother have some quality time together.” He says, giving a small, hollow laugh. “Could have pretended not to see the extra line for a while longer. I know how much you need a mother figure in your life and the chance to keep a secret from me.” He smiles at you and you smile back. He rests his hands on the metal bed frame, his tone changing as he addresses Queen Frigga again. “I remember our times in the forest. No servants, no family, just you and me, mother and child, against the world. Giggling, sharing secrets, sharing magic. I would have liked to have given this young one the chance to have experienced it.”  
“You still can.” Queen Frigga walks up to him, puts her hand on his shoulder “You think your father did not know where we went?”  
“The grizzled old spy...” The God-King sighs. “Controller of my life and destiny. How I resented him.”  
“And resent him still.”  
“Yes.” The God-King looks to her. “If I break the spell that he has woven into that band, I break your spell too, do I not?”  
“Unfortunately so.”  
“But I must do so, and soon. For the child is about to set foot on Asgard and neither Father nor Heimdall must know of it.”  
“Loki.” She says firmly. “Stop speaking in circles and get to the point.”

“The Tesseract.” The God-King says. “And the Tesseract piece I allowed you to keep.” He sees her expression and laughs. “That I allowed you to keep.” He says again in confirmation and she scowls at him. “Well, the Tesseract was not happy with that arrangement. It wants the piece back.”  
“It cannot have it.” She says firmly and the God-King nods.  
“But if I doesn't get it, then this child and two of my most useful Midgardians will die. The Tesseract will eat their energy and leave them as husks.”  
“But if we capture them on Asgard...” She says and the God-King shakes his head.  
“Father will imprison them and they will be lost to me. As I said, my resources are extremely limited, I lose these three, then my plan for escape... the chances shrink dramatically. I may never be able to claw back my advantage.”  
Queen Frigga purses her lips in disapproval.

“Your plan hinges on just three Midgardians? I thought I raised you better than that.” She scolds him and the God-King looks so child-like for a moment, so exasperated that you only just stop yourself from laughing. You bite your bottom lip hard and hope he doesn't see your expression. But the God-King only has eyes for his mother.  
“Not just three, but these three are pivotal. You know how war can be, how plans can shape themselves beyond your exact control. I am in the misfortunate circumstance of three of my most important assets being put in dire peril. And I am in no position to stop these circumstances from playing out. I am injured, I am being watched and I have just lost another important asset. Everything hangs in the balance. And so I ask for your aid in this. I need them to return. I need the Tesseract to be placated. But I also need for Thor to say in contact with you. And my captors wish the piece to remain on Asgard as well. If it does not...” His expression wavers and you see fear in his eyes. “I am at an impasse.” 

“Well.” Queen Frigga looks at you. “I am glad that we met when we did, Young One.”  
“I don't remember.” You tell her. “To save my life, to save your sons life, I had to make myself forget some stuff. If we've met before...” You shake your head. “I don't remember. Sorry.”  
“Well you and the Tesseract have a unique bond. Do you remember at least that much?” She asks and you nod. “Can you bargain with it?”  
“To a certain extent. But it really wants the piece back.”  
“All of it?” She asks and you furrow your brow.  
“I, I guess.”  
“But what if you were to go to Asgard and find that the piece had been split? That you could only secure one piece in the time that you had?”  
“It would have to be the bigger piece.” You tell her and she nods, thoughtfully.  
“But it would understand, that at the spur of the moment, you could only take one?”  
“Yes. But, then... it might just keep me and try again...”  
“Not if the other piece was impossible to obtain. If it was clouded and anchored with High Magic to the point that you could not break the spell and carry it away, even if you wanted to.”  
“That might work.” You agree, uncertainly. “If I managed to return with most of it.”  
She nods briskly.  
“Then it shall be done.” She turns back to the God-King. “And what of the second thing you need of me?”

“When the child is on Asgard, I need you to meet with them.”  
“That's really dangerous.” You say.  
“I concur.” Queen Frigga agrees. “Your father might well believe that, by splitting the Tesseract piece, we signalled a raid on Asgard. But if I was caught speaking with the thieves...”  
“I need your expertise. I have a warrior I am having trouble controlling. A high-powered asset who requires your skilled touch. I would not be asking if I did not desperately require your abilities in this matter.”  
You shiver at the thought of seeing the Captain again so soon.  
“And...” The God-King continues. “I would like you to re-establish this magical link with the Child, and that can only be done while they walk on Asgard. Once I break Father's spell, it will be impossible to find them again on Midgard. I would have the chance to still keep your counsel from time to time.” He sighs, looking at the floor, again appearing so very young and lost. “It is so hard to do this alone.” He says quietly. 

Queen Frigga considers.  
“Very well.” She nods. “I would like to know what is happening here on Midgard. I would like to see both of you again, to know that you both still live. Though I do not like lying to my husband.”  
“We both know that is not true.” The God-King says and a moment passes between them. They both smile mischievously.  
“But this has far more gravity than one of your pranks...”  
“I am an adult now. And so my pranks should reflect that, once in a while...”  
“Loki...” She sighs.  
“Mother...” He shoots back, mirroring her inflection.  
She sighs again, a full body one that makes her shoulders lift and relax, filled with motherly exasperation. She shakes her head, but she's still smiling.  
“How long do I have to prepare?” She asks.  
You look at the God-King.

“You were in Sanctuary for over a day and then you were unconscious for another two, while the machine kept you drugged.” He tells you and you nod.  
“Then that gives us three days left.” You say. “But, that's not long enough.” You pause thinking. “I'll try to hold out for five. since I'm still ill, I can probably wrangle those two extra days, but the Tesseract won't be happy to wait longer than that.”  
“Five days...” Queen Frigga considers and then nods. “I can work within that time-frame. I'll have the Tesseract piece placed in the Vault, though Norns knows why we still use it. It's been breached so often lately that we need to give the whole place a serious security realignment. Ever since those Frost Giants found that secret passage, things have been problematic...”  
“Maybe this will be the event that finally spurs Father to stop sitting on his fat ass and actually start ruling again...” The God-King says, then stops under his mother's reproachful glare.  
“Enough, Loki.” She says.  
“You know that I'm not wrong. You know...” He tries again, but once again her gaze silences him. He bites his lip and looks away. 

“I will be waiting at the entrance.” Queen Frigga tells you after a suitable pause. “I will be hiding my presence, however, so you will have to seek me out. I wish only you and this asset to see me.”  
“Okay.” You agree. “I'll work out a way to separate us from the main group.”  
“I will send the asset to Stark Tower tomorrow evening.” The God-King tells you. “You said that you could talk the Tesseract around to letting you take another person.”  
“I said I could try.” You protest.  
“Make it happen.” The God-King says in his flat voice. “Too much is at stake if you do not.”  
“Do I really need the Captain...?” You ask him, pleading. He looks at you hard. “Okay.” You agree. “Okay. I'll talk it round.”  
“Loki.” She says in soft rebuke. “Must you be so harsh?”  
“Another day. Another time. When the warm winds of summer stir Asgard once again and we sit at the river beneath our favourite tree. Then I will be able to explain myself to you.” The God-King says. “Until then, yes, I must be hard, I must be harsh. There is no other way for me to be.”  
She hugs him gently.  
“Oh, my youngest child.” She says sadly. “Whatever has become of you?”  
“I hate you seeing me this way.” The God-King says. “Promise me, no matter what happens. I might still have your forgiveness?”  
“I love you, Loki, and the burden of the crown is so hard to wear upon the brow. Especially alone. We shall talk in the summer, when this is all over and we shall be a family again.”  
And their sadness is so profound that you start to cry. 

She kisses him on the forehead and then her illusion begins to shimmer and expand. Turning once more to golden threads, that disappear, gently, one by one. 

*

“Is that the time-frame?” You ask him once Queen Frigga has gone. “Do we only have until summer?”  
“No.” The God-King smiles wistfully. He leans over the foot of the bed and clicks his fingers. A solid illusion handkerchief appears in your lap and you take it gratefully, dabbing at your tears. “It's just something Mother and I say to each other, when we know we are going to be parted for a long while. Just as Thor will talk about meeting in the tavern again to share great tales over strong mead. A promise made to those in parting.”  
“Oh.” You say, blowing your nose. “You Asgardians have lots of weird traditions.”  
“Perhaps.” The God-King agrees. He smiles at you. “I see you have not forgotten how to cry.”  
“Is that another jab at how weak I am? Because right now... I'm really not up for a lecture.”  
“No lecture.” The God-King says. “Just an observation. It is good that you have not forgotten. A lot of children get the tears burned out of them, especially in times such as these.”  
You look up at him cynically.

“We need your mother to come say Hi more often. I think I like the person she brings out in you.” You say and the God-King laughs. He turns away, looking at where she disappeared , his expression wistful.  
“If you tell anyone...”  
“Sure, sure, lips zipped.” You blow your nose again. “And I'll tag it for forgetting the next time we're brought up to see your boss.”  
“Good.”  
“Yeah. I'm learning.” You smile at him. “But until then, I'm going to like remembering the way you looked when she scolded you.”  
“Whelp.”  
“Mummy's boy.”  
He looks at you sternly.  
“Enough.”  
“Hey, if I had your dad, I'd favour her as well.” You shrug. “She's real nice.”  
“She is.” The God-King agrees. 

“Going to introduce her to Nathan?”  
The God-King raises an eyebrow.  
“What, you're not going to bring him home to dinner after all this is over?”  
“Mortals are forbidden on Asgard.”  
“Like that ever stopped you.” You say and he smiles fondly.  
“I wish I could, but...” He grips the metal bar at the foot of the bed so tightly you can see the whites of his illusionary knuckles. If he were actually here, the whole thing would snap in two. “...Our relationship, by it's very nature, was always meant to be temporary...”  
“What do you mean by that?”  
“Child...” The God-King sighs. “To love a mortal is to watch them grow old and I have no intention of watching Nathan grow old.”  
“So, once this is over, you're going to let him go? You think he even will?”  
“It's coming sooner than either of us want.” The God-King says. “Now, be quiet on the subject.”

“Only if you promise me something.” You say and he looks at you sardonically. “Like, really promise. Like, pinky-swear.”  
“Pinky-swear?”  
You raise your right hand, your little finger cocked and he laughs.  
“No.”  
“Promise me.” You continue, raising your voice a little. “That when you send the Captain here, you'll send some alcohol as well. Some really good stuff, at least two bottles.”  
“Why?”  
“Because I'm betting that you scared Nathan so badly that he's in his room right now drinking the last of his supply and that's really unfair.”  
“Very well.” The God-King says a little to easily for your liking. “When I send the Captain to Stark Tower, I will send Nathan something to drink as well. Something nice and expensive.”  
“You give your word?” You press him.  
“Absolutely.” The God-King looks at you and you glare back at him. His lips twist in humour. “I give my word.”  
“Good. Then I agree to drop this conversation.”  
“At last.” He says, but his tone is good-natured. Meeting his mum has really lifted his spirits.  
The God-King turns away, walking across the room. He gestures and the orange field begins to retreat. 

The second it's gone, Hawkeye is through the door. His pushes it open, his back to the wooden surface, his bow raised and an arrow nocked and drawn. The God-King stops in his tracks.  
“I'm not here, Barton.” He says, like he's talking to a child, and the man nods.  
“Yup. Got that. But JARVIS has analysed your holographic field and has changed the charge on these electric arrow tips accordingly. I shoot you with this, not only will it screw with your illusion, but it'll give you a damn fine headache back in the State as well.”  
“Barton...”  
“So back away from the kid, nice and slow.” Hawkeye says.  
The God-King looks pissed, but raises his hands in an exaggerated movement and walks sideways away from you so that he's still facing Hawkeye, but not advancing on him.  
“I'm done. It's done. You're really a bit too late for all this posturing.”  
“Yeah well, it makes me feel better.” Hawkeye says. “And if you try to pull this again, I won't hesitate.” He pulls the bow fully taut. “Now go away.”  
The God-King turns his head to look at you.  
“Until tomorrow.”  
“Yeah, sure.”  
He nods and disappears. 

Hawkeye lowers the bow. He removes the arrow with a practiced movement and puts it back in the quiver. He walks casually towards you.  
“So what's tomorrow?” He asks.  
“You got the soup?” You ask, just as the same JARVIS suit walks though the doorway with a tray.  
“Of course I've got the soup.” Hawkeye smiles at you. He sits down on Nathan's chair while the suit puts the tray squarely on your lap and unfolds a napkin to tuck into your t-shirt. “Now, debrief me.”  
You take a piece of bread from a side plate and start to break it into dunking squares while you wait for the suit to stop mothering you.  
“Sure.” You say as you scatter the bread into the warm liquid. It smells so good, your guts twist and moan. “Mind if I eat while I talk?”  
“Sure, Kid. Get your strength up.”  
You smile as you spoon out the first chunk of bread.  
“We're going to have company tomorrow...” You tell him as you blow on the steaming mouthful.  
It feels so liberating to be able to talk and eat.  
The suit walks out of the room with the promise of freshly-ground coffee.  
Hawkeye treats you as an adult as you start to tell him what happened.  
You talked with the God-King and he didn't hurt you once.  
All in all, you wish every day could finish like this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have seriously been looking forward to getting around to Frigga. Properly giving her a decent scene and some action in this story. I loved how intelligent and badass she was in Thor 2 and it still hurts that she was killed off, just as she started to show her steel. 
> 
> I also feel that her death diminished Loki's character, taking away one of the few things he values in the world and casting him adrift even further. Thor will always have Odin's pride in him and the support of his friends, but Loki is so often left with nothing. I seriously get angry at how often Loki is used like a punch bag in the films and then gets branded as evil for trying to hold is own. It's one of the reasons I started this fic in the first place, along with my curiosity at how Loki winning in the Avengers would pan out.
> 
> Anyway, I'm going to head to the comments section now and get some answers sorted out. 
> 
> And since November is the month of the strangely long writing acronym, I'm going to try and hammer out a few more chapters in the next thirty days. Hopefully get to the end of this arc of the story, ready to start on the next.  
> There's still a long way to go, there are still a lot of plot points that I haven't reached yet before this story can end, but I'd really like to sort this arc out so I can move on to the next. It's starting to seriously build up in my head.


	55. An Interlude With Nathan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, Kid?” You look up as Clint comes out of the elevator and walks towards you. “You got a minute?”  
> “I got lots of minutes.” You say, slapping your hand on the table and getting up. “What's up?”  
> “Nathan.” Clint gestures in frustration. “He hasn't been out of his room since Loki spooked him yesterday and JARVIS says he's stuck fabric in all the grills to stop him talking and hunted out all the cameras and covered them.”  
> You frown with concern.
> 
> “You think it's bad?” You ask.  
> “Well, it ain't good.” Clint exhales heavily. “He's not answering the door to me and while I don't think he's a suicide risk or anything...”  
> “He shouldn't be alone right now.” You agree.  
> “No.” Clint nods. “You up to give it a try?”  
> “Sure.” Anything to stop thinking. “I'll give it a go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was supposed to be the month where I blazed through the rest of this arc of the plot and got through to after Asgard. 
> 
> I sat down, I started writing and I was halted. By Nathan.  
> Things had become too much for him, I'd over-loaded him by accident and he needed to get a few things off his chest. Since I'd already had a few comments from you lovely people asking for some of his back story, I decided to write it. 
> 
> I'm not saying it was a mistake, but god, the feels, all the feels.  
> It took weeks to write and once I'd finished it, it took me a week to get up the strength to go back and edit it for posting. But here it is.
> 
> It's not for the squeemish, I'll warn you now. It's only Nathan talking, but man, writing what was in my head out on paper hit me hard. For those that need triggers, it has stories of rape, stories of captivity, what happened to him during the Battle for New York... It's basically the story of a mortal getting ensnared by Loki, body, mind and soul.
> 
> So yeah, consider yourselves pre-braced for how Nathan became the God-King's lover.

*

It's only noon and it's already been a long, long day.

You're sitting in the penthouse, looking out over the city and spooning chocolate cake out of its tin with your finger. It's your third, but Clint is letting you eat as many as you need. It's been that kind of day.

The Tesseract had not been happy at your attempts to change the plan, not even slightly. It came around eventually, after nearly a whole morning of negotiation. But it's still massively pissed at having to concede an extra place to the Asgard party, even though it makes perfect fucking sense. You can feel it thrumming up there, on the observation deck, almost seething in its anger. After hours of trying your best to get the bottom of the problem it had come down to the fact that, while it agreed another person wouldn't really expend much more energy for the trip and would up the chances of success by a large margin, at the same time – it hated the God-King and didn't want to do it. 

You wonder if it's you.  
That, maybe, the main Tesseract and the piece talked and worked out how to be this damn stubborn from you. Because it seems to be changing, evolving, learning. When you first met it was just an animal intellect with a crazy-high level of math knowledge. But now it's developing a personality and becoming difficult. It's putting a bigger emphasis on its own wants and needs and its own survival. It like something near immortal, that's been just getting by and letting people mess with it has just discovered both mortality and the ability to say no.  
And, boy has it started loving the word no.

You put down the empty tin, wipe your fingers on the napkin on the table and then start massaging your eyes sockets for the hundredth time that day. Your head hurts, it hurts so bad that even the painkillers that JARVIS gave you aren't doing more than making it a bit more manageable. JARVIS says he has stronger, but they might start effecting you in bad ways. Making you tired or spaced-out and you can't afford that right now. You need to be sharp. You need to make sure the Tesseract keeps its end of the bargain and that the God-King doesn't try anything either. You're the broker here and if you screw it up, then everything will go to crap. 

You sigh and look mournfully at the empty tin. But you shouldn't eat more, not yet.  
“JARVIS?”  
“How can I help?”  
“Could I have another coffee?”  
“That would be your tenth in less than three hours.”  
“Huh.” You think about it. “Could I have one anyway?”  
“You are in a lot of pain and dehydration will not help with that.”  
“Look, once tonight is over I'll let you drug me and force me to rest for, like a whole day, okay? But right now I need to be focussed.”

JARVIS sighs and you wonder how he got that programmed in. Did Mr Stark get a voice actor to sigh into a microphone? How does JARVIS work anyway? Is the guy who voiced him still alive? Walking around New York? And how does he know how to react so perfectly? Most Artificial Intelligences go off script and hilariously bat-shit within days of trying to understand human social interactions.  
And yet here he is, perfectly mirroring a person, so that he actually feels like a true person...  
You shake your head as it starts to pound again. Today is not a great day for speculation.  
It's not like you'll ever get those answers anyway. It seems rude to ask JARVIS himself and the only other person you could have asked was Mr Stark...

“To coffee or not to coffee.” You say looking up. “What's your answer JARVIS?”  
“Only if you drink some water first.”  
“Ugh.” You raise your hands. “Fine. Bring it.”  
“I assure you, I only have your best interests at heart.”  
“I know.” You grump. “I know. Doesn't make it any better.” You look up. “Sorry, I guess.”  
“It's quite all right.”  
A suit comes with a pint of water and you drink it slowly while glaring at it the whole time. You slam the glass down on the table once you're finished.  
“Now. Coffee?”  
“Coming up.” And the suit leaves.

“Shit.” You mutter. “And I thought having human parents was bad enough...”  
Once you say it out loud, it hurts like hell. It sounded fine in your head, but once you say it, it's a punch right in the gut. Your parents are dead and gone and you haven't thought about them in so long. You're not even sure you fully remember what they look like anymore. What they sounded like, how they spoke, how they gestured. You remember them, sure, and you remember days out and all that, but the little things are starting to go.  
Maybe you'll have to forget them too...  
To keep everybody safe...  
You wipe at your eyes with the napkin and scowl out towards the city.

Not today, you don't have time for this today...

You don't even recognise yourself, now. Not really. This new, scowling kid in the reflection of the window. It's feels like a different life, so very, very long ago. When you were goofy and free and only had to worry about getting up in time for school. When your worse worries were a couple of dumb bullies, who seemed so awful, but weren't, not really. Now you'd just kick the shit out of them, humiliate them and scare them. Now you wouldn't put up with it for a second. But back then, those two had kept you up at night. What were their names?  
You can't remember.

Tina Fisher. You remember her name because you've got her book, back at the Empire State and you kinda remember her smile and how she read chapter two, stumbling and nervous and red-faced with embarrassment when she got a word wrong. But anyone else? Not really. You didn't really have friends, just people you hung out with, traded cards or stickers with, swapped sandwiches sometimes. You didn't want to go to their homes because they were awesome compared to yours and it made you feel inadequate and you couldn't invite them to your home. That would have been unthinkable. And the other Howard Apartment kids had hated you because you were bright and in the higher learning sets. They said you were stuck up, had dreams above your station. But you didn't, not really. If college had been in your future then you would have gone, sure, but not for any big picture reason, just because it was there. 

You look down at the table.  
What the fuck are you doing? When did it all become alien gods and sentient energy sources and trips to other worlds? When did this all get so fucked up?  
Or is this what life is really like and it was your other life that had been stupid and made-up?  
An innocent lie to keep everyone going, to help them make it through the day?  
You put your head in your hands, but quickly turn it into a gesture where your fingers move through your hair and then back onto the table. You tap on the surface, leaning heavily on your forearms, trying, desperately trying, not to think of anything.

“Hey, Kid?” You look up as Clint comes out of the elevator and walks towards you. “You got a minute?”  
“I got lots of minutes.” You say, slapping your hand on the table and getting up. “What's up?”  
“Nathan.” Clint gestures in frustration. “He hasn't been out of his room since Loki spooked him yesterday and JARVIS says he's stuck fabric in all the grills to stop him talking and hunted out all the cameras and covered them.”  
You frown with concern.

“You think it's bad?” You ask.  
“Well, it ain't good.” Clint exhales heavily. “He's not answering the door to me and while I don't think he's a suicide risk or anything...”  
“He shouldn't be alone right now.” You agree.  
“No.” Clint nods. “You up to give it a try?”  
“Sure.” Anything to stop thinking. “I'll give it a go.”  
“Thanks, Kid.” Clint smiles. “He's two floors down, in a guest suite.”  
“You sure? He wasn't in the guest rooms yesterday...”  
“Nathan changes rooms every day.” Clint shrugs. “He says he doesn't feel safe settling in...”  
“Huh.” You bite your lip. “Well that's worrying.”  
“Tell me about it.” 

*

“Nathan?” You knock gently on the door. “Nathan, it's me.”  
At first there's no answer, but you persevere, and eventually get a muffled 'go away'.  
“Nathan, we need to talk.”  
Again there's long pause.  
“No. We don't.” But he sounds closer to the door.  
“Nathan, come on, don't be like this. Don't make me worry about you as well as everything else going on...”  
“I'm fine.”  
“Want to try that again, but with a bit more conviction?”  
“I'm fine!”  
“Say it to my face!”  
The door opens and Nathan glares down at you.  
“I'm fine!” He shouts in exasperation.  
His hair is uncombed and all over the place, like he's been tossing and turning in bed. His eyes are bloodshot and his clothes are slept in.  
Before he can slam the door shut again, you're under his arm and inside.

“Kid...” Nathan turns.  
“You're not fine.” You say, sitting down on the bed.  
“Fuck, I'll go find some place else...” Nathan goes to grab his suit jacket on a nearby chair.  
You get up and touch his arm and he recoils like you hit him.  
“Nathan...”  
“Just fucking leave me, okay? I'm not...” He looks away, his voice goes soft. “I'm not worth your time. And...” He looks at the doorway. “And I just want to be alone.”  
“You shouldn't be alone right now.”

He looks down at you, leaning on the back of the chair with both hands. He swings his right foot in anxiety.  
“Don't you...? Y'know? Have better things to do? Like Asgard things?”  
“Sure, I have things to do.” You shrug. “But none of them are more important than you.”  
“Kid.”  
“Ace.”  
“Yeah, sure.” Nathan smiles weakly. “Ace.” He reaches out and takes your shoulder. “I don't want to be a burden.”  
“You're not.” You say, touching his hand. “And you never will be.”  
Nathan looks at you, the pain in his eyes so raw it's hard to look at him.  
“Go sit on the bed.” You say gently. “I'll go close the door and we can talk in private, okay?”  
“Okay.” He glances at the entrance. “Okay. I can do that.” 

Outside the door is the suit that gave you the water. It's holding a tray with two cups of coffee and a large plate of sandwiches.  
“He hasn't eaten today, so I was hoping...” JARVIS says through the suit and you quirk a smile.  
“I'll try.” You promise taking the tray from its hands and putting it inside the door. “Now we need some privacy, okay?”  
“I will go and attend to other chores.” The suit agrees.  
“This might take a while, so no peeking or listening in, okay? Nathan needs some time and so do I.”  
“Understood. I shall inform, Mr Barton.”  
“Okay JARVIS. Talk to you later.”  
You close the door and place your palm to the lock, changing the words of your unlocking spell to “bar my way” and smile as you feel the lock click into place.

Nathan looks unimpressed by the sandwiches.  
“You don't have to.” You say as you put them on the dresser. “But I'm having my coffee.”  
“Sure.”  
You look around. Nathan's torn one of the sheets into uneven strips and they're littered all over the room, stuck high in grills in the ceiling, thrown over one of the lampshades, even one of the corners of the mirror is covered. You gesture at it with you coffee cup.  
“Why?”  
“The stud has a camera in it. The one that supposed to be covering the top right hand screw.”  
“Sneaky.”  
“Yeah.” Nathan stretches his feet out so he's resting on his heels and just the edge of his ass on the bed. He crosses his ankles and moves his feet as if checking out his shoes. “I really hate this spying shit.”  
“I locked the door.”  
“I heard.” Nathan nods.  
“You okay with that?”  
“Absolutely.” Nathan looks over at you. “I couldn't do it myself. Had to rely on everyone being polite and not trying the handle. This is much better, more private, y'know?” He taps the space next to him on the duvet. “Come on, pull up a pew.”  
You gratefully walk up and sit down beside him.

“I'm not fine.” Nathan says. “But I've been so not fine for so long that it's become normal. I'm so used to not being fine that I think if things went back to a point where I did feel fine, I'd freak out for months.”  
You sip at your coffee and don't say anything.  
“I love him. I love him so much and I know it's toxic, I know he's chewing me up and spitting me out. But that's part of it, that's become part of the charm. Because when he's being acidic, or flippant, or sarcastic, I know I'm safe... But when he's being calm and reasonable, I know I'm in so much shit...”  
He bites his lip, letting it slide out from between his teeth while he takes a moment to think.  
“That if anyone was ever actually calm and reasonable to me in a relationship again, I'd hate it. I'd want to know why they were doing it, what they wanted from me. At least when he's cruel, I know why and I know he's only doing it because he wants me. He wants to keep me and so he's controls me, because that's the only way he knows how to love. He's been burned so many times that he just lashes out and he doesn't mean it, but at the same time he does, because he thinks that's how you show affection... and, and... Fuck...”  
He goes back to studying his shoes.  
“Its so nice to be wanted... to know that he's trying, even when he doesn't understand how to open up without preparing for an attack. He's so hard and yet so damn vulnerable. And I just want to hold him and tell him everything will be okay. To have his back and be there for him, because no one else is there for him...”  
He gives a small, sighing exhalation.  
“And, of course, the sex is the best I've ever had...”

He glances sideways at you.  
“Too much information?” His brow creases. “Should I even be sharing this stuff with a fifteen year old?”  
“It's fine.” You smile at him. “I know you two are lovers, so it's good. Just no details, okay? I really don't need the graphic stuff, but I can deal with the every day.” You shrug, turning the smile into a grin. “And who else are you gonna share with anyway? Who else would get it?”  
“Okay. Point.” Nathan nods. “Well maybe Laura...”  
“But she's not here.”  
“No.”  
“And you need to vent, you need to share this.”  
“Yeah.” And the word is a long drawn out sigh.  
“So share. I'm willing to listen.”  
“It gets too much, you'll tell me?”  
“On my word.”  
Nathan pauses thinking, working out where to start. 

“He's sweet.” He says eventually. “So darn sweet. He's constantly making up to me. With treats and concern and gentle, wonderful moments that I know he doesn't share with anyone else. I'm special to him, not just someone to bed, but someone to share his life with, intellectually, emotionally. He's in charge, or course, but that doesn't make me completely powerless...”  
You sip at your coffee and just let him talk.  
“And I only sleep well – fully, deeply sleep – when I'm in his arms. Despite it all, being with him, it makes me feel safe. He might hurt me sometimes, but he also protects me. I know if anyone came at me, he would always have my back.”  
He goes quiet again, thinking. 

“He saved me, you know?” Nathan shifts a little, crossing his arms over his chest. “He ever tell you about that?”  
“No.”  
“I was about a block from Stark Tower when the war started. I was getting coffee. I was meant to be in talks with some of Mr Stark's building contractors, sorting out some last bits and pieces of architectural work for him. Small stuff, but a big deal, career-wise. Even being a small part of Stark Tower held some prestige for the future. I'd spent months greasing palms and wheels, sorting out contacts and networking like crazy, just for that small sliver of pie. And then Mr Stark disappeared and the meeting was cancelled and I went across the road for coffee. ..” 

Nathan glances to the dresser.  
“Talking about coffee... You mind?”  
“Sure.”  
You get up and go get his mug from the tray. Nathan takes it with a grateful smile.  
“Best stuff this side of the Tesseract, and probably quite a few miles after that.”  
“Billionaire coffee is the best coffee.” You agree.  
You both lift your mugs and chink them in a toast the Nathan takes a large swig, sighing in contentment. 

“I was in the building when there was a Chitauri drive-by.” He says, returning abruptly to the story. “The ceiling caved under their fire. Most of the customers were under tables by then, cowering like children. The few people who had tried to run into the street had died in front of us, so we'd barricaded the door and tried to find shelter as best we could.” His eyes go distant. “I'd tried to tell people that they needed to get in the doorways, that those were the strong points, but no one listened. Everyone was panicking, giving in to animal instinct and that instinct said to get a roof between you and the danger. It doesn't matter if that roof's only a table made of hollow aluminium and cheap formica...”  
Nathan takes another swig.

“When I came to, I was flat on my back, my lungs filled with masonry dust, but otherwise okay. I couldn't move, though. There was this big concrete slab right over me, not crushing me, but pinning me to the floor. I had about an inch worth of air space between me and concrete oblivion.” He gestures with thumb and forefinger. “The doorway had fallen with me, you see, fallen around me. It had caught the slab and given me enough area to still be alive. I was in the doorway, but the sides trapped my arms to my body and I was terrified if I moved...” He slaps the duvet with his free hand. “Human pancake.”  
“What did you do?” You ask, horrified and fascinated.  
“I screamed.” Nathan gives a little laugh. “I screamed and I screamed for help. See, I knew that I had air supply for a few hours, at most. So wasting it screaming was a better bet than sitting silent and hoping to get found.”  
“But the Chitauri...”  
“Yeah well, I didn't know they were collecting people back then and I figured, worst came to worst, a bullet was better than suffocation...”  
He goes silent for a while, back to brooding and you don't break it. You give him time to think, to work it out.

“The Prince heard me. I don't know why he came, why he decided to help me, but he did. The next thing I knew the concrete above me was moving and this strangely dressed, wiry, gorgeous man was holding it up like it was nothing and offering me his hand.” Nathan snorts. “So of course, I took it.”  
“What happened next?”  
“Mr Stark was there, he was in his suit on this crazy floating stretcher, being pushed by two Chitauri. He was unconscious, just his face plate off. He looked real ill. There was the Captain too, his eyes blue, his expression god-damned terrifying. He didn't even look at me. I didn't know what the fuck was going on. I didn't know who the Captain was then, didn't even know who the Prince was, but they had Mr Stark and there were these fucking terrifying aliens, so I kept my mouth shut and walked with them and hoped for the best. They were heading to the Empire State and between them they pulled a few others from the rubble too, but most of the time they just walked on by. Ignoring the screaming and the pleas. All the people they saved were like me, they could walk. Maybe the Prince could tell by the cries if the person was worth saving or not, I don't know. Maybe he just went off on a whim.” He shrugs. “We both know that's possible.”  
“Yeah.” You agree.

“When we got to the State, the Chitauri made to take us all away. But the Prince stopped them when they got to me. He had that predatory look about him and I knew what he wanted.” Nathan narrows his eyes. “It was him or the Chituari, so I followed him inside.”  
Nathan looks at his empty coffee mug.  
“The windows were all smashed and the elevators didn't work, so he just took me up a few flights then told me to wait while he saw to Mr Stark. He came back about an hour later with more Chitauri carrying blankets and a couple of mattresses. There was food and water, one of those gas heaters, because the sun was setting and it was getting chilly. Everything I would need for the night. When we were alone, he gave me some of the food and water, sat me down on one of the mattresses and said he just wanted me for the night. He just needed the companionship and afterwards he'd let me go. Assign me to these new Pens he was creating and let me get on with my life. But he wanted my consent. He wanted me to agree to it. What could I do...?” Nathan lifts the cup over his head, squinting as he looks into it and sighing. “...I said yes.”  
“Shit.” You say softly and Nathan puts the cup down on the floor. 

“He was gentle. I didn't expect him to be, but he was. He was kind, considerate. He healed all my aches and scrapes with magic, warming me inside and out. The sex was amazing, I expected him to just take, but he gave as well. It seemed to amuse him, to have me at his mercy and then to share rather than having all the pleasure for himself. He was strong, supple, cool to the touch...” Nathan bites his bottom lip. “I knew it wasn't me he wanted, just my body. You know what he's like after a victory, insatiable, demanding, but he was gentle all the same. I was convenient but he didn't want to hurt me.”  
He glances around the room.  
“He was gorgeous and there wasn't any difficulty giving in to him. I needed it as well, I needed to know I was still alive after such a close brush with death. But that first night, there wasn't any love there, no real connection beyond a mutual lust. An agreement that this was just a one-night thing, no strings, y'know? Just two people sharing each other. Just two people fucking and having fun.”  
You touch Nathan's shoulder gently, he looks down at you like he'd almost forgotten you were there. He smiles softly, but there's pain in his eyes and he carefully moves away. You drop your hand back to the bed, nodding to show that you understand.

“He kept his word.” Nathan continues. “He let me go in the morning. Took me in his carriage to where the Chitauri were assembling everyone to group them for the Pens. Told me I was alive because I'd pleased him. Told me that we'd never see each other again and that I should keep my mouth shut or he'd come for me. Threatened me and kicked me out without even a thank you.” Nathan laughs. “Like I could have told anyone and not gotten a shiv in the ribs for my trouble. But the fact was that I was grateful to him, grateful that he'd saved me, that he hadn't taken me captive or killed me after getting what he wanted. I don't know why he let me go, we hadn't shared more than a few sentences all night, he didn't know I was an architect or anything like that. He just knew he wanted sex and I was there to provide it. I guess he just figured I wasn't worth killing afterwards.”  
“Or maybe he was planning to come back for you.” You say and Nathan pauses, thinking.  
“Maybe...” He considers then shakes his head. “But I don't really think so.”  
“But he did take you back...”  
“Yeah. Yeah, he did. But I don't think that was planned either.”  
“Tell me about it.” You say and Nathan looks at you, then his eyes slide away.  
“Sure.” He says distantly. “Sure, why not?” 

Nathan leans back and looks at the ceiling, propping himself up on his arms.  
“You ever been in a Pen?”  
“No.” You tell him truthfully. “But I've heard about them.”  
“They're not as bad as all that. I mean at the beginning, it was hard. So many buildings were destroyed or looked okay but turned out to be structurally unsafe...” Nathan's eyes are unfocused as he remembers. “But we never went hungry, we were never cold or without clothing. There was rationing, but not to the point of starvation. Shelter we had to work out for ourselves, but that wasn't withheld either. There was plenty to build with, you just needed determination to get it done. And there was a good spirit, after the initial shock wore-off. A feeling of unity, of shared purpose.”  
Nathan gives himself a little shake, he looks around the room. He shivers again. 

“It's like being in a tomb here. Stark Tower was always on the sky line, a lot of the tall buildings fell, but not Stark Tower.” He gives a small laugh. “With the big old blue sphere and the void above. It was a monument to how things used to be, how stupid we were to think that we were so cutting edge and clever. Every time I looked up and saw Stark Tower and a Chitauri ship beside it...” He shivers again. “You've no idea. No idea. How fucking insignificant we all felt. We didn't even know why we weren't just butchered. I mean, the Chitauri stayed away from the Pens, but the second you put one foot outside that arbitrary border and you were gone. They would take you, swoop down and...” His eyes narrow. “We lost a lot that way at first. Cabin fever. One day you have electricity and running water and the run of the city. The next day it's wiped out and you're stuck to a few blocks... A lot of people decided to suicide by Chitauri. But of course...” His smile is cold. “That isn't what happens is it?”  
“No.” You say quietly. 

Nathan bursts up in a sudden movement of anxious energy. He gets to his feet and starts to pace.  
“And then you start to sort yourself out. Fuck the why, work out what you're going to do with it. The medics were soon up and running, allowed to travel between the Pens. So we sent messages out with them, tried to work out what people could do, where they were, what advice they could give. In Pen Seventeen, they had me, one of two known architects that survived the war. We also had the lions share of electricians and plumbers, though Six had cornered the market in carpenters. And so on and so on...” He runs his hands through his hair in stressful gesture. 

“The Chitauri hadn't given a damn about careers when they sorted us, roughly each Pen had an equal male to female ratio and a percentage of children. Families were kept together, as best as could be, but there were also a lot who got separated out. We started sharing information, drawing up plans. Parents sent pictures around the Pens of their kids, kids did the same for their parents. I sent drawings out to Pen Two with the other architect, man named Rufus Montgomery, specialised in renewable energy housing and structures. Between us we started to work to how the hell we were going to rebuild with everyone scattered.”  
He glances at you to see if you're keeping up. You nod at him. 

“Then the votes were called. To find representatives, so we could finally, finally, start to petition the God-King of New York for what we needed. And that fucking asshole Willamson tried to turn it into a rebellion and everything went to shit....”  
“He paid for it...”  
“We all did. After that the Prince instigated the black mark protocol. If he demanded something from a Pen, and the Pen couldn't give it, you got a black mark. If he thought you didn't give up traitors or dissidents quickly enough to him, you got a black mark. If the rubble hunters found stuff and kept it, the Pen got a black mark... The list was endless and I'm just picking out the more serious of infractions, but there were loads of small ones too. You reached five marks then he expected fifty people to be given up to the gallows in Prospect Park. If you couldn't decide who, he'd send people in to take double the amount. Either the Captain or the troops he had, or sometimes he'd let the Chitauri play...”  
“Shit...”  
“Yeah...”  
Nathan kicks at the carpet.  
“Life in the Pens wasn't horrible, but his rule certainly was in the beginning. We lived in terror of him.” 

Nathan pauses, he looks at you.  
“Sorry, Ace. I guess you already know all that, being at the sharp end and everything.”  
“No, don't be sorry.” You finish the last of your coffee and put the cup down. “For me it was way different. It was day to day survival. But it all hung on me, I didn't have anyone relying on me, or any plan save getting to the next morning. And generally, if bad stuff was coming, I knew it was coming. It wasn't like, I don't know, getting up and starting what seemed to be a normal day and finding Captain America stood there on my doorstep. That must have been awful, the not knowing.”  
“And those days happened. They really did.” Nathan nods. “Because you never got told about the the fifth mark. You got to the fourth and you fucking did everything you could not to piss anyone off. But you always did, eventually. And then someone would come calling, asking us to make a list of people to take away...”  
Nathan sighs heavily.

“So...” You say, leaning back and kicking your heels on the bed. “While I am interested in all this back story, because no one's ever told me any of this and I was in so much isolation in the Empire State that this is fascinating and all, but... What's the point to telling me?”  
“Right.” Nathan sits back down on the bed and throws his arm around you. You lean in automatically and press your head in the hollow of his shoulder. He strokes your hair in a fond, brotherly kind of way.  
“You sure you want to hear all this?”  
“You want to tell me.” You murmur into his shirt. “So tell me.” 

Why is it always so comforting? Resting your head against Nathan is so calming. Feeling the softness of his shirt, his human warmth, his reassuring strength. It really is like having an older brother, the brother you never had.

“It was a warm day. I was wearing my favourite t-shirt.” Nathan voice is sardonic, conversational. “It had been given to me by accident, a whole size too small, but, man, did it look good on me. I had several lovers and they all went crazy when I wore that shirt. I was planning on hooking up with one after my work day and I figured, it was warm, no need to change. Just be casual. Better than sweating into a suit for once.”  
“What was their name?”  
“Nancy. She was one of the plumbers. She's still alive, I see her name on the work crews and stuff all the time, but I haven't spoken to her since that day.”  
“The day the God-King took you?”  
“Yeah.” Nathan's voice becomes uncertain, suddenly he isn't so happy. The chatty veneer drops and looks away, the pain of the memory hitting him hard.  
“Sorry, Ace. I thought I could make this.. I don't know... Jokey? But...” He lifts his arm, pushing you away again. “And in my head, I thought I could do it. But now I'm talking, now it's out in the open...”  
“It's okay, Nathan. Its all okay. Do what you need.” You say firmly. This is his story to tell, however he wants to tell it. You give him a final, quick squeeze around his ribs that makes him smile faintly and then you move away again, down the bed, giving him his space. 

Nathan pauses for a few seconds, looking at you sadly. His expression telling you all you need to know about how bad he feels, turning you away, but how much he needs his space.  
He takes a deep breath and looks down at his hands.  
“The Prince had been taking people for his harem for around a month or so by then. Some came home after a few weeks, maybe a bit longer. They had lasting scars both physical and emotional. Occasionally, very occasionally, he didn't hurt them at all. He gave them a good time and then let them go as unsuitable for a long-term interest. Like me on that first night. A fun little one-night-stand, but nothing more. But most were never seen again.”  
He takes another deep breath, then ploughs determinedly.

“The problem with Pen Seventeen was that we had too many useful people. So when the Prince rocked up asking for recruits, either for his military or this harem, we had very few people to spare who reached his needs. Nancy was a looker, but she was far more use and far happier plugging leaks than ending up in the Prince's bedroom. And Dennis, our representative, he was a good man, he'd never infringe on someone's dignity like that. You know: 'sorry, sweetheart, but what's between your legs is far more important than what's between your ears.' He'd never injure their dignity like that.”  
“But the God-King wanted men too, right?”  
“Sure, but we had none to spare, of any gender or sexuality. So he quickly went through what little we had to offer him. In all honesty we'd all thought he'd given up on our Pen for that sort of stuff. But no, there he was in Dennis' office demanding a new line up. I was having a good day, work was going well, we'd just finished a new apartment blue-print and we were raring to go, I just needed a signature. Dennis had an open door policy and his office had one of those frosted door windows. And the Prince was doing the quietly furious thing, so I didn't even hear him.”  
Nathan seems to shrink in a little as he remembers. You decide to widen the space between you and stand, walking over to the sandwiches. 

“I just stopped half-way in the office, frozen in the doorway like an idiot. Dennis was pale and shaking, the Prince was stood there all regal casual, not even in his helm and armour, but furious, absolutely furious.”  
Nathan's voice gets smaller as he lives through that moment again.  
“He looks at me and I just can't move, y'know? I just can't. I'm a mouse caught in the gaze of a cat. He looks me up and down, takes in my shirt and just starts to smile... He orders me in the room. I do what I'm told and he starts circling me, eyeing me up. Asks Dennis why he's been hiding me from him. I stutter out that I'm an architect, I try to hand the Prince the blue-prints, but he isn't interested. He starts touching me and I'm so scared. And he recognises me, I know he does, but he pretends he doesn't. And his lust isn't like it was that night after the Battle, it's more vicious, more violent. He wants to fucking hurt me. He wants to make me scream. And...”  
Nathan swallows.  
“I say no. I don't know where the hell I get my voice from, but I tell him no. That I'm too valuable to the city, that I'm an architect, damn it, that almost everyone in my Pen has a trade and he'd be weakening his rebuilding schedule if he took me away.”  
“What happened?” You ask.  
“He told Dennis to explain a few things to me and he'd be waiting downstairs for my arrival. He gave us an hour.”  
Nathan closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. He shakes his head in mute frustration before letting his hand drop to his side and staring at the carpet. 

“It turns out that our Pen had earned our fifth black mark the night before and the Prince was giving us an out, in view of our skill set. If he was provided with an interesting play pet, he'd wipe the debt away. He was looking for someone attractive, but intelligent, a person he could seriously fuck with. He was fed up of just pretty faces. Dennis had been trying to reason with him, without success and now, due to my fucking bad timing, I'd been chosen. If I didn't go with him then the Prince was going to go through the Pen randomly butchering people until he got bored. Silently, invisibly, just fucking stalking us for sport. If I said no, I'd be responsible for at least a hundred terrifying deaths. Probably more.”  
“Nathan, that's just, that's just awful.”  
“So what could I do?” Nathan gives a smile that's more of a grimace. “I gave Dennis names of people I knew who could at least interpret the blue-prints and maybe take over my work. The hour went pretty damned fast... And then I went downstairs where the Prince was sitting, reading a newspaper and waiting for my arrival...”

Nathan goes suddenly, deathly quiet. He pulls himself onto the bed, pulls his knees up to his chest and hugs them tightly. He rests his head on them and starts making soft sobbing noises every time he tries to speak. He pauses in obvious frustration, takes a large, deep breath and somehow finds his voice.  
“God, I don't want to tell you this, but I need to tell someone. Someone who knows him, someone who'd believe me.” He taps his forehead against his knees repeatedly, as if trying to drive it all out without having to talk about it.  
“Go on, Nathan.” You urge him. “Say it. Tell me.”

“He raped me. Right there in the foyer. He tore off my shirt, he, he...”  
Nathan starts to shake.  
“I tried to stop him, to fight back, but he just back-handed me and he was so fucking strong. He just hit me once and he knocked all the fight out of me, left me stunned and staggering. He dragged me off to one side, pinned me to the concrete floor... And no one could see, he'd cast a spell, made us invisible. People just walked on by, some of them inches from where I was being assaulted. I cried out for help, I begged him to stop, I...”  
Nathan grips his knees tightly.  
“...But no one even looked my way.”  
“Nathan...” You want to tell him that's it's okay. But it's not okay, you'd be lying and you know that you'd hurt him if you said something like that. Make him feel like you weren't taking it seriously. So you just let the sentence drift off. Nathan looks over at you and you know he understands. He looks back down and the tears start to fall down his cheeks. 

“I used to dream of him, y'know? Back in the Pen. I used to dream of that night we had, two people sharing a moment of need. His gentle hands, his cool skin. And then...”  
Nathan breaks off.  
“And he was laughing and he wouldn't stop talking. Telling me that I was his now, that my past life was over, that his wants and needs were now my whole world. He bit me repeatedly, not like a lover, but like a carnivore toying with its prey. He tore into my ears, into my neck, into my shoulders, drawing blood and leaving ragged wounds. He held me down so hard he left bruises, his nails cutting into my skin like he was ripping paper. He was threatening, violent, fucking insane. I thought I was going to die, right there. That he was going to keep my body hidden and just leave me to rot. But afterwards he takes me by the hair and pulls me out of the building. Throws me in this dark-green sports car and makes me drive him back to the Empire State. I don't know how I didn't crash it, self-preservation, maybe?” Nathan shakes his head. “And he's watching me the whole time. I'm naked and shaking and bleeding... out of my mind with fear. And he keeps touching me, caressing me while I drive, smiling as I whimper...”  
Nathan stops talking, his body shaking with sobs. 

You find that you've stopped moving, that you're breathing shallowly. You don't want to break this moment, to make him realise where he is and who he's talking to. He's speaking into the air now, just letting it out. If he remembers you're there, you know he'll just clam up and stop talking. That he'll feel ashamed telling you, putting more on your shoulders, adding to your burden. But he's not, you can take this and he needs to get his story out, to tell someone.  
So you remain perfectly still.

“He forces me into the lift.” Nathan starts speaking again, choking the words out at first and then speaking again more confidently. “He takes me up to the harem level. We're still invisible, his other subjects don't even look at us. He tells me that they are his sex slaves, but I'm special. A pet. Something more than just a body to him. But he doesn't explain it more than that. He takes me right down the corridor, right to the end where's there's a room without a door handle. He opens it with magic, pushes me inside... He tells me that he'll be back later. There's no bed, just this large sheepskin rug off to one side and a blanket. No windows. A fucking bucket for a toilet. He just leaves me there, the remains of my clothes hanging off my body, injured and scared and alone. I curl up on the rug, because there's nothing else to do and I somehow fall asleep. When I wake up, I'm under the concrete slab again. I can't move, I'm trapped, my lungs are filled with masonry dust and I scream and I scream and I scream.”  
You swallow heavily,wishing you could say something, but knowing that you can't interrupt.

“I don't know how long... I think I pass out a few times, the air gets thin and I suffocate, just to wake up again and go through the same process. I scream for help, I cry and I sob and then finally, finally...” Nathan bites his bottom lip. “I call for him. Not just for anyone passing. I call for him... And he answers. He lifts the concrete like he did on the first day and he offers his hand. I take it and he pulls me up, into his arms, into a caring embrace and the illusion melts away and we're back in the room. And he holds me and he heals me. He takes me down the corridor to a shower and he washes me gently, intimately. Kissing me, holding me, full of love and care. He takes me back to the room and he lies me down on the rug and he makes love to me. Real, gentle, delicate love.

Afterwards he dresses me in clean clothes and when I finally find my voice, when I finally ask him why, he smiles. He tells me that when I'm afraid, I just need to call him and he will come and rescue me.” Nathan punches the duvet hard, the action so sudden you take a few steps backwards.  
“And I fucking hated him for that. He'd made the illusion, he'd started the torment and now he was playing nice? He saw it in my face and he hit me so fucking hard... And then I was on the floor, blood in my eyes and I was terrified all over again. For a moment I'd forgotten, I'd been so angry, but now the terror was back in full force. I kissed his feet, I apologised over and over. I told him it was my fault, all my fault that he'd hit me, that I hadn't meant to make him lose his temper. I crawled for his mercy. I fucking crawled. Eventually he gestured me up, his face cold and impassive. He showed me the tray with my dinner by the door and he left without another word.”  
Nathan goes quiet, looking at the carpet, his gaze so intense, like he 's willing it to catch fire.  
“And that night, I go to sleep and I wake up and I'm under the concrete again...”

“Nathan.” You say softly. “Nathan. If you don't want to tell me. It's okay.”  
Nathan looks at you, his expression hard, but his rage isn't for you. He sighs, uncurling from his fetal position and gestures you over. You walk forward carefully and he smiles.  
“I'm not going to bite, Ace. Or try and run away. Come over here.”  
You pause, go back to the table and grab a few of the paper napkins beside the sandwiches. You take them back with you and give them to him. Nathan takes them and cleans up his tear-streaked face, then throws them onto the bedside cupboard. He scooches back to lie fully in the middle of the bed. He looks more relaxed now that he's let some of his pain out.  
You slip off your shoes before you get on the bed, though Nathan hasn't bothered to do so. You tut playfully and stop at his feet. You start to unlace them and he doesn't say anything, watching you with a guarded amusement. You throw them away, one at a time, then crawl up to lie beside him.

“Shouldn't get the billionaire beds all muddy.” You tell him and he snorts.  
“Those shoes have never been worn before. And the place is carpeted. I swear I saw one of those armoured suits doing the hoovering a few days ago, too...”  
“JARVIS likes to keep the place clean. How else is he supposed to do it?”  
“There are people in the pens who'd give anything to sleep in these beds in return for helping with the chores.”  
“Yeah but, they can't get up here , can they?”  
“That's a good point.” Nathan pulls you into a hug, ruffling your hair and making you giggle. “I'm a rubbish older brother.”  
“No you're not. You trust me, it's nice.”  
“I shouldn't be burdening you...”  
“Oh, don't be stupid.” But you say it playfully, not to cause offense. “I know there was bad stuff between you two. You don't need to lie and pretend it was all sweetness and light.” You gesture to your chest with your thumb. “I know him, remember?”  
“Yeah, Ace. Yeah you do.”  
“And I might be fifteen, but I'm not a kid, not anymore...” You sigh, turning over on your back, looking at the ceiling. “In the last few months I've aged like a gazillion years...”  
“That's pretty specific.” Nathan says dryly. “You thinking of putting a claim for the worlds oldest living human?”  
“Physically, I don't think I make the cut, but mentally...” You grin at him. “I think I'm in with a fighting chance.” 

You punch him playfully in the ribs and Nathan pretends to be really hurt, huffing and putting his hand over the injury.  
“Hey, not you as well...” He says in mock protest.  
“So what happened next?” You say, punching him lightly again. “Come on, get with the story.”  
“You really want to know all this?”  
“Sure.” You nod. “I'm curious and it's good for you.”  
“I haven't been able to tell anyone.” Nathan says, looking up and sighing. “Laura had way too much on her plate to want to listen to me and everyone else pretty much thinks I fell into the role. That we had meetings together to discuss the rebuild and it all just happened nicely and naturally. No one would believe that he kept me as a sex slave for months and tried to break me. And who would I tell anyway? This gets out and I'm in deep, deep trouble with the Prince. Trouble I just don't need.”  
He ruffles your hair again.  
“So you keep this quiet, you hear me?”  
“I hear you, Nathan.” You curl up against him. “I hear you.”

“I held out for hours that second time. The air getting thin, suffocating, passing out, then coming around again. Going through the same cycle over and over. Trapped and in pain, but not going to give in. I was silent too, didn't scream, didn't do anything. I just lay there, coughing up dust, seeing if I could wait him out. But then the panic started to settle in. Small things at first, the hunger and need to go to the bathroom. Then the actual brain betrayals start to come home to roost. You start to wonder if this is anything like the first time, that if you call maybe he won't come after all. That maybe this is a punishment for not playing along, that even if you scream for him he'll just laugh and leave you. Or he might make it worse if you leave it too long, might turn up the heat, might start tightening the screws.”  
Nathan narrows his eyes.  
“And then your heart rate starts climbing and even at the beginning of the cycle you can't breathe, because your chest is so tight and you want to hold out, you do, more than anything...” He sighs. “But then you break and you call out to him.”  
Nathan closes his eyes at the pain of that remembered moment of weakness.

“And he came. Within moments the concrete was moving and he was there again, his hand held out for me. I took it and fell into his arms while he chided me for waiting so long. And I cried and I cried and he just held me. Loving, sympathetic, comforting. He took me to a bathroom, so I didn't have to use the bucket and could clean up. He had warm, cooked food brought down and shared a meal with me. By then I was shaking with exhaustion, both mental and physical. The passing out under the slab hadn't been rest, y'know? Just a period of blankness. I needed real sleep. So he took me to the rug and he curled around me and he promised to protect me while I slept, tucking us in and holding me close. And I drifted off in his arms. When I woke up that second time, he was gone, but there was breakfast waiting for me.” 

“He left me for days after that. Well I assume it was days, no windows, no natural light. And the lights never went off, there wasn't even a artificial day/night cycle for me to work on. But I got hungry and tired and sometimes he sent a servant down to feed me. A blued-eyed servant with a blue-eyed escort to make sure I didn't try anything. But I wasn't going to escape, where would I go? Even if I got out of the Empire State, he owned the fucking city and there was a god-damned force-field around it. I knew my situation was hopeless. And that gnawed at me. I had nothing else to think about, nothing else to do. Inactivity makes the brain eat itself. I spent hours on fruitless scenarios, trying to work out how to get out of this, how to negotiate with him into letting me go, or to move me somewhere nicer. Hell, maybe even give me a book to read or a radio to listen to, or, or something...”  
Nathan's hand curls around the duvet cover as he makes a fist and he pulls at the cloth distractedly.

“I know what it's like.” You say softly. “I know what it's like to be that kind of helpless.”  
“Yeah, Ace. Yeah, you do.” Nathan's other hand is still gently ruffling your hair, playing with it as he tries to process all the memories. It feels really nice and comforting. You lean into it a little and he glances down and smiles.  
“Did you call him?” You ask and Nathan shakes his head.  
“Not at first. I figured if he was feeding me, then he hadn't forgotten. He was probably busy or something. Then I did, quietly asking him to come and save me from my boredom. I had long one-sided conversations, just to fill the silence of the space. Occasionally I lost it and screamed for him into the air, cursing him, punching the walls. I don't cope with inactivity well at the best of times and after while I just couldn't take it anymore. Especially after several days of nothing. But still he didn't come.”  
Nathan sighs.

“And then one day, I woke up and the space was pitch black. The kind of solid dark that makes you lose all perception of the space around you. I got up and I stumbled around. I figured the lights had gone, or something similar and then I stepped into water. I splashed through, getting more and more concerned and confused, trying to find the far wall and failing. The water felt weird, thicker than if it was from a burst pipe and sometimes floating things brushed against my ankles. I pressed on and as it got deeper the floating things got larger. I turned around, trying to get back to shore, but I must have got the direction wrong because the water just kept getting deeper and deeper. “ Nathan laughs, self-mocking. “You'd think it'd be easy, just turn around and go back, but in that kind of dark, I probably hadn't been going in a straight line anyway, so I just turned myself around and couldn't work it out. Something heavy hit my leg and I reached down and picked it up, running my hands over the smooth surface, over and over, until I found the eye sockets and nose cavity and the jaw bone...”

Nathan grits his teeth.  
“I threw it away and something living, hard, scaly, terrifying, brushed against me. I started to freak out and the water was nearing my upper thighs and then I could hear it. Something off to my left, something eating...” Nathan pauses. “And I'm stood there in the water, my clothing soaked, my heart hammering, desperately trying to master my breathing so it doesn't hear me and it takes forever to remember to call for him, because my brain just isn't working.”  
“Did he come?” You ask, caught up and horrified by the tale.

Nathan pauses again.  
“Not at first. At least, not like last time. I became aware of him in stages, realising that I could hear someone else breathing nearby, feeling his presence as he walked towards me through the thick water. He didn't splash like I did, his movements far more silent. I thought the monster was stalking me, but I couldn't move away, couldn't run. He touched my shoulder and I jumped out of my skin. Then he started to laugh softly and I went quiet, trying to relax. He told me that if I wanted to leave, he would take me home, for a price. I asked what the price was, but we both knew I was going to say yes, regardless. That I couldn't risk him leaving me there. He leaned in behind me, breathing onto my neck, his hand reaching around to touch me where I really didn't want to be touched. He asked me if this was the worst I thought could happen. I asked him as calmly as I could not to leave me there. To save me like he promised he would. And he laughed and told me that promises were for children.” 

“Yeah, he says that a lot.” You murmur and Nathan nods.  
“I asked him again what the price was, but he refused to answer. Told me to say either yes or no. That he was not there to bargain with me. So I said yes and he took my hand and led me out of the water, away from the creature I could hear snapping bones from no more than fifty feet away. I told him that he could stop the illusion now, that he'd won, that I'd do anything he asked. And he told me that it wasn't an illusion. That it was a place he knew on another world and he would have to lead me home. He'd carried me here while I slept, then waited for me to call for him.”  
“Shit.” You whisper in disbelief.  
“The tunnel he led me to was strange. It was dark, like space, but without any stars. And it was filled with bright shooting lights, all the colours of the rainbow. When we entered, it was like we were travelling at speed and yet we were walking at a normal pace while it streamed around us. It made me feel giddy, nauseous and dizzy, but he held my hand and led me forward. Sometimes it branched off, but he always knew which way to go, his steps sure while the lights swirled around us.” 

“It sounds like the Bifrost. It's what the Asgardians use to get around. I've seen the Rainbow Bridge in one of the God-King's memories, but I've never seen any of the secret ways he knows about.”  
“Secret ways?”  
“He knows loads about the Nine Realms. There are places you can cross, if you know what to look for.”  
“And he does?”  
“Oh, yeah. It's a really rare skill, even on Asgard.” You bite your lip. “I mean, that was a terrible thing for him to do to you, but I'm also a little jealous that you've seen a secret way and I haven't yet.”  
“Well maybe he'll take you somewhere nicer.”  
“Here's hoping.” You glance at him. “Did you come out in New York?”

“We came out in an abandoned building, there wasn't anything left but piles of rubble. The void was in the sky, so yeah, it was New York. My clothes were soaked with viscera and blood. And that was when I started to smell again...” Nathan grimaces with disgust. “...my nose had been overwhelmed in that place and just shut down. I caught my own scent and I threw up. Just over and over again. The Prince watched me with contempt, waiting impatiently for me to finish. As as I doubled over, retching until my eyes watered, he told me that the universe was a vast and cold place. That no one cared of my little city, of my little world. He told me that he was the only hope I had, that any of us had. He took pity on me and knelt beside me, lifting my hair from my face and stroking my back, but he kept on talking. How there was a darkness coming to envelop this world and everyone on it. He told me that I'd come to wish he had left me there in the pitch black, in a lake of slaughtered soldiers from a battle no-one living remembered. Where scavengers fed and swam in the deeps. And he showed me the emerald he had taken from one of the bodies, while I had stumbled through the filth, and pressed it into my hand. A gift to remember how fragile my existence was.”

Nathan taps the green precious stone in his collar.  
“Proof that it had all been real, that it hadn't been an illusion.”  
“But maybe he lied. Maybe he brought it with him from New York.” You say and Nathan shakes his head.  
“It was covered thickly in mud and unnamed sludge. Years of accumulated grime while it rested with the body under the water. He let me clean it when we got back to the Empire State and that was when I discovered it was an emerald and not just some weird stone. And the Prince's right arm was covered with that brackish water, right down to the bicep, where he'd reached down to prise it from the corpse. No, it was real all right. All of it had been real. To let me know that sometimes my tortures would be illusion, but other times they would be solid and I would never know which was which.”  
Nathan lets out a deep, heavy breath.  
“Then he had his servants draw a bath for us both and he held my head under the warm water while he stroked my shoulders and raped me.” 

“How do you not hate him?” You ask and Nathan clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth while he thinks of an answer.  
“Do you hate him?” He asks eventually.  
“No.” You say.  
“Why not?”  
“Because, because...” You trail off. “Because, it's complicated?”  
“And that's the rub, isn't it? If it had just been terror and rape, then, yeah, I would hate him. But it wasn't all that. It was also love and vulnerability and reasons he couldn't explain. His pain being expressed through my pain.” Nathan shifts uncomfortably. 

“You ever get that moment, where he's not really paying you any attention and he's completely unguarded and some instinct in your brain tells you how fucking worthless you are compared to him. How you'll never be that graceful, or strong or beautiful. When you're suddenly hit with his glorious, humbling, alien majesty?”  
“Yeah, a few times.” You admit.  
“The first time I saw it, it just broke me. In that moment I fell completely, utterly in love with him. It faded after a few minutes, but it left a lasting impression on me that I could never shake again.” Nathan gives a small, sarcastic laugh. “The only time he actually broke me was when he wasn't trying.”

“Do you think that's why our ancestors worshipped the Asgardians as gods?” You ask.  
“Well, I'm guessing it didn't hurt.”  
“His brother has the same thing, but it's more physical with him. More raw power than the God-King's grace.” You give a little shiver. “His brother scares me, a lot.”  
“Did he hurt you?”  
“No. Not ever. But, unlike the God-King, his other worldly presence never really goes away. He doesn't belong here, he doesn't fit. And some instinct in your head knows it.”  
“They have a history, don't they?” Nathan asks. “Him and his brother.”  
“Yeah. Major history. But neither of them really want to talk about it.”  
“Well, who does?” Nathan says thoughtfully. “Not everyone has a younger sibling who's willing to listen.”  
“Are you feeling better?” You ask and Nathan considers, then pulls you into a strong embrace.  
“Never better.” He says as you squeal and struggle playfully. “Thanks, Ace.”

You toy fight for a while, kicking and tussling on the bed. There are several points in the fight where you could take him out, but it seems unfair to use your training and, without it, Nathan is older, stronger and heavier. He completely has the natural advantage, but enjoys holding back as much as you do and the fight goes on for quite a while, neither of you wanting to end it. Eventually you're on your back and he's sitting on you, his chest heaving while he laughs. And he knows you've let him win, that you kept the fight to human ability and you can see the gratitude for that in his eyes. He leans down and he takes you in his arms and he hugs you hard, kissing you gently on the forehead.  
Then he falls on his side next to you.  
“Jeez, I'm beat.” He says. “That was a roller-coater and a half.”

“You want to know why he drove you out yesterday?” You ask and he looks at you suspiciously.  
“I guess...?”  
“He wanted to speak to his mum.” You say and giggle at Nathan's surprised expression.  
“His mum?”  
“Don't tell anyone this, but you shared, so I think it's only right I do...” You pause looking at him and then plunge on. “I'm going to meet her in Asgard. She's going to help cover our tracks and get us to the Tesseract piece. “  
“She is? Why?”  
“Because she loves the God-King ad he pretty much begged her for help.” You smile at him. “He doesn't want to lose you.”  
“Or you.” Nathan points out and you shrug.  
“Sure, but.” You look at him directly. “I know the God-King. It was you he was thinking about. Not me. It was meant to be a secret, you're not actually invited to see her. But if you want...” You grin impishly. “...I might be able to secure an invite.”  
“To meet his mum?”  
“You want to?”  
“Yes.” Nathan blurts it out. “I'd love to meet his family.”  
“Then you will. I'll make it happen.” You promise and he hugs you again, taken by emotion.  
“I don't deserve you, Ace.”  
“Sure you do. You more than anyone.”

“You know what's happening tonight?”  
“Kinda. But not really. I'm guessing the God-King will tell us when he's good and ready.” You rest your head on Nathan's shoulder. “But it might involve him sending the Captain to help us.”  
“Well, he could be a help.” Nathan agrees. “But I'm not to happy about that.”  
“You and me both.”  
“Kid...” Nathan pauses, serious for a moment. “I'm so, so sorry I left you in there with him. He just, he pushed all my buttons and after everything he's done to me...”  
You pull him back into the hug.  
“It's all okay, Nathan. You stood up for me and I appreciate you trying. I know how much it cost you to even try.”  
“You mind if I sleep for a bit?” Nathan asks. “This whole things kinda drained me and... well... it'd be nice to sleep next to someone again, just this once. And you, well, you... You feel like him somehow, on a deep level. When I'm with you it's like being with him, but without all the bad shit.” Nathan looks a little ashamed. “You make me feel safe, Ace.”  
“Sure.” You pull out of the hug and curl against his chest instead, letting him drape his arms around you. “I could probably do with some sleep myself.”  
Nathan kisses your hair and then begins to relax. It isn't long before he's sound asleep, his arms wrapped around you, his chin resting on your head as he curls into you.  
It feels so good. So safe and secure, that it isn't long before you're drifting as well.

*

Eventually you're both woken by Clint knocking, telling you through the door that the God-King is here and asking for you. You spend a few minutes combing your hair and straightening your clothes and you go to answer the door while Nathan reties his shoe laces. You unspell the door and open it smiling in welcome.  
“We'll just be a minute.” You say and Clint nods.  
“He okay?” He asks, his voice professional, but concerned.  
“He's better. Maybe not okay, but getting there.” You say and Clint nods.  
“Aren't we all? But it's good to know. I'll let him know you're coming.”  
“Thanks, Clint.”  
“See you soon.”

Nathan stands and takes a few deeps breaths. You walk over and take his hand.  
“We're going to get through this.” You promise.  
“Ain't I suppose to be saying that to you?” He asks and you laugh.  
“So say it.”  
Nathan squeezes your hand and looks deeply in your eyes.  
“We **are** going to get through this.” He says and you smile.  
He lets go of your hand, straightening his suit a final time.  
“How do I look?”  
“Absolutely dashing.” You wink. “You'll absolutely blow him away.”  
Nathan grins happily as you both leave the room, ready to face it all together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know as a writer, you're not supposed to have favourites, but Nathan is becoming one of mine. Like with the kid, he's got under my skin. He's only mortal, but he's brave and he's strong and he's loving.
> 
> When I first sketched him out, I didn't really know him. Some characters only really come to life as you write them and they make their choices in real-time. Sometimes you don't know how a character will react until they are faced with the plot and sometimes they surprise you.  
> Nathan in my head was no where near as deep as Nathan on the page. 
> 
> You'll also have noticed that Nathan's story is incomplete. That this was really only part one.  
> It just reached the point where it was a good place to stop, where Nathan was emotionally wrung out and physical time for plot progress was beginning to press in. This conversation could only go so far because the evening was going to be taken by Loki and the Tesseract and the next part of the plot.  
> And both Nathan and the Kid needed to rest, otherwise they were both going to be hugely strung out and that wouldn't have been helpful for the next chapter. 
> 
> So I'm going to leave it there and continue with the rest of the story, until Nathan asks to talk about his issues again. That might be a few chapters, it might be after this entire plot arc, I just don't know. But it's coming.  
> Just not today.
> 
> I'll reply to all your comment tomorrow.  
> Once I've had time for a rest.


End file.
